Regaining Hope
by Murkatroyd
Summary: AU. The summer has been rough, and with Ron and Hermione now together, Harry feels edged out. Feeling more abandoned than ever, he finds comfort with three unlikely people, and one of them seems to understand him better than anyone else. Post-Book 4.
1. Chapter 1: An Unusual Journey

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Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On the rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Side Note: I've changed my username since my last update (in another story), and will be signing differently. It is now CMurk as opposed to General Murk. Sorry about any confusion.

Full Summary: The summer following the Triwizard Tournament has been hard for Harry. To make matters worse, his two best friends have finally gotten together and begun to unknowingly edge him out. Feeling more abandoned than ever, he is surprised to find shared company from three people, one of whom seems to share and understand his pain, as his life twists and turns further...

Disclaimer: Mme. Joanne Rowling owns the series as a whole, and I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review or feedback accusing me of plagiarism will be automatically deleted. You will be given credit where credit is due, rest assured.

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**Chapter 1:**** An Unusual Journey to Hogwarts**

The time had come to leave for Hogwarts once again. Hundreds of students were now boarding the Hogwarts Express in different areas from the station known as Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Eager first years were among the first on board, anxious to begin their education in magic for the first time ever, and excited at the prospect of it. Older students bid farewell to their families, eager to finish their education or enter their final years. There was one student, however, who was not looking forward to going back as much as everyone else on board, if only because it meant being separated from the two people who seemed to understand his plight. The cruel irony was that both men had issues between them and the Ministry of Magic – one was a fugitive, one was a werewolf.

That certain student, separated from the two people who understood him best, stood in front of them, a certain emptiness in his eyes as he said, "Well, good-bye, then." Saying this was one of the hardest things Harry Potter had ever done, and Harry had faced down the most evil wizard of the century three times at this point.

"Good-bye, Harry," said Remus Lupin, both werewolf and mentor to him. He gave Harry something akin to a fatherly hug, and Harry hugged back, wishing he didn't have to go back. He wasn't feeling any sort of understanding towards anyone at Hogwarts at this moment. "We'll see you during Christmas."

Next, the dog beside them stood up, its height on level with Harry's while on its hind legs, and puts both of its front paws on Harry's shoulders, the same way a human would. It barked once, and Harry cracked a smile at his godfather, Sirius Black, and his way of saying good-bye.

"Hope to see you soon, Snuffles," he said, patting his Animagus godfather's head. "Thanks again, Remus, and bye." He turned around and boarded the train, as Remus and Sirius watched him go.

On the train he ran into his friends, who barely stopped to say hello before turning around and heading for the carriage near the front of the train. "Where are you going?" he called out, confused and slightly hurt that they hadn't at least said anything first.

"We have to go to the Prefect meeting. We'll see you later, Harry," said Hermione Granger, waving from the other end of the carriage, Ron Weasley at her side with one hand on her back. "Save us a seat, all right?"

"Yeah ... sure ..." Harry called back, his shoulders dropping a little as he waved good-bye to his Prefect friends. "See you in a few hours, I guess."

As he watched them go, Harry felt an odd sense of let-down. He knew he shouldn't be so surprised any more, but after all, Ron and Hermione had been his best friends for almost four years now, and now that they were dating, hanging out with him seemed to drag them down, something that he would not let himself do to them. They have given up too much for him already. If they wanted space, he would give them space.

That was what he thought right now, anyway. He really wasn't sure what he thought about being the third wheel in his little group, and as such, his opinion on the matter constantly changed. He didn't think he would ever have a true grasp on what he thought, and he knew for a fact that future time spent with them would be awkward. Sighing, he turned around and began his trek down the corridors of the train's carriages, looking for a compartment to sit in while he waited for his friends to return.

Halfway down the length of the train he ran into Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, who smiled as she saw him. She had boarded before he had because he had stopped to say good-bye to his godfather and ex-professor.

"I was wondering when you were going to turn up down this way," she told him, giving him a hug as he came to stand with her. He hugged her back, though he pulled back a little more quickly than necessary. Even though he and Ginny had become a lot closer over the summer, he still felt a little awkward hugging his supposed best friend's sister. "Come on, there's a compartment just over here."

She led him into the compartment, shutting the door behind them. He took a seat next to the window and she sat down across from him, putting a hand on his knee as a sign of comfort. Her chocolate brown eyes glowed a little as they stared into his dulled green eyes, which revealed only sadness, and with good reason.

"It must be hard for you, Harry. I know they mean a lot to you."

"It's no big deal," Harry said with a shrug, though he knew that he didn't mean it, and so did Ginny.

"Come on, Harry, I know you better than that," Ginny said with a small roll of her eyes. "It's their fault, you know. Just because they're dating doesn't mean they can just suddenly abandon their best friend."

Harry put his face in his hands tiredly, running his fingers through his hair. This was not something he wanted to talk about right now, even if he was better friends with Ginny than he was before. The fact of the matter remained that he had absolutely no idea how he felt about this.

"It's not just them," he said quietly, referring to his two best friends. He looked out the window, sighing. "It's just that their timing couldn't have been worse."

Ginny nodded in understanding. Ron and Hermione had started dating before he had arrived at Grimmauld Place in the middle of the summer, and for the first few days Harry had tried to act as though everything was normal, the same as before, even though it had become increasingly evident that Ron and Hermione would rather spend their time on their own. Neither seemed to notice that he did not spend as much time with them as before, and when he did, he seemed to be forcing himself to.

"Well," tried Ginny cautiously, "you got a lot of time to spend with Sirius and Remus, anyway!

On the bright side, however, he had had a lot of time to spend with his godfather, who was now confined to his house in Grimmauld Place on Dumbledore's orders for his own safety and against his own wishes, and Remus Lupin, his ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and Sirius' best friend. Getting to know his father's two best friends had been nice enough for him, but it wasn't the same without his friends. Ginny, who was there with her family for the Order of the Phoenix – a secret society formed by Dumbledore – and its meetings, had spent most of her time with him and his father's friends as well. From there, he and Ginny had spent most of their time at Grimmauld Place together, with most of that spent with Ginny trying to comfort Harry. Because unfortunately for Harry, his problems ran far deeper than just with Ron and Hermione now that Voldemort was back.

Voldemort, however, was the last thing Harry cared about right now. He'd be no match for Voldemort without his friends anyway.

"Yeah, spending time with them was fun," he said softly, lifting his face from his hands. He looked at Ginny. "I never really knew Remus, and I helped Sirius while he was on the run, but I didn't really know him, either."

"That's the spirit!" Ginny said happily, her excitement at getting Harry to cheer up obvious. Unfortunately, Harry was not quite cheered up.

He could not help but remember the first time Ron had told him to let them be for a while. He had understood, seeing that this was something Ron had wanted for a long time, and had given them their space. The second time, it had been a bit more of a blow to him, but he had still given them time, and had backed off. Then the third time for them to ask him to leave them be came, and it had felt as though the blood running through his veins had gone cold, leaving him to feel empty. What made it worse was that neither seemed to see this; Ron's eyes were only on Hermione, who was the same towards Ron. Harry had stopped bothering as often after the third shutdown, and he briefly wondered if his friendship with them would ever be the same.

Shaking his head of these thoughts, he turned his attention back to Ginny, who was gripping his knee firmly, the warmth from the gesture spreading through him like Butterbeer. He was really grateful for this.

"... but it's all right," he heard her voice saying; evidently, she had been speaking while he was lost in thought. "You have me, and Neville and the twins, if you ever need us."

"That means a lot to me," Harry said with a smile, the first one he had worn in nearly two weeks, though he was not entirely sure it was genuine. "Thanks, Ginny."

"Any time," she replied happily, giving his leg one last squeeze before sitting back in her seat.

They spent a half hour in the compartment, making light conversation about their summers and the upcoming term at Hogwarts, before a knock on the compartment door interrupted them. Harry stood up to open it, and six boys around his age entered immediately. Ginny sat up at once, staring at one of the six boys with a bit of a dark look on her face, though Harry did not notice.

"Hey," said the one at the front, a Ravenclaw fifth year who Harry knew by face alone, "can we use this compartment? Everywhere else is full." He looked a little uncomfortable being near Harry, but for the most part seemed easygoing, or perhaps tried to be.

Seeing that there were half a dozen of them, Harry nodded, not really seeing a choice in the matter. "Sure. Ginny and I will find somewhere else to sit." At this, Ginny stood up, coming to stand next to him. For some reason, one of the boys was staring at her with an odd look, which she was returning with a bit of an angry look. Harry didn't pay much attention to it – it wasn't his business anyway – as he let the boys in and walked out the door, Ginny bringing up the rear. As he passed by the six students, he noticed that some of the boys cringed a little from being close to him; clearly, more people than he thought had bought into the rubbish that the _Daily Prophet_ had attacked him with every few days. He no longer let it bother him – he hadn't even thought about it since the middle of August, when the idiotic newspaper had claimed that Harry belonged in St. Mungo's in a ward for brain treatment – but it still nagged at his mind a little.

As they walked down the corridors of the train, looking for another compartment to sit in, Harry wondered where his other friends at Hogwarts were, especially Neville Longbottom, one of his Gryffindor classmates and a boy whom he got along with quite well. He had not yet found anyone in his house at Hogwarts, which was strange; usually he found them almost right away, especially since Neville usually found him first. He didn't really expect Ron and Hermione to come looking for him – though it didn't stop him from hoping – but his fellow fifth years should have been around. Unfortunately, as he walked further down the corridors he passed a fellow fifth year who was, ironically enough, the last person he wanted to see.

"Well, well," sneered Draco Malfoy, Harry's archenemy, who was leaning against the wall beside one of the compartment doors, arms folded. "I see you've finally gotten rid of the Mudblood and the Weasel. A good decision, Potter, but in favor of the Weaslette? Come on, even you have to be better than that!"

Harry ignored him entirely, not even sparing him a glance as he walked straight past him. Ginny followed his lead, sticking her nose in the air as she passed the Slytherin bigot. They had not taken two steps away, however, when Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back.

"Don't you dare ignore me, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, his grey eyes narrowing dangerously. "I'm a Prefect now! You'd better learn some respect!"

"I'm not going to respect someone I'm not afraid of in the slightest, Malfoy," Harry replied calmly, pulling his arm from Malfoy's grip. "I'm not doing anything worth getting detention for, meaning you can't do anything to me, and to be quite honest I'm sick of your childish insults at my friends and I, and of humoring you whenever you feel the need to come pester me. Grow up already." He continued walking away from him, and as he reached the door leading to the next section of the train, a spark hit the wall beside the door, clearly made from a spell.

"You're a persistent ferret," Harry shot at him, the reference to Malfoy's encounter with the fake Alastor Moody painstakingly obvious, though Malfoy said nothing. His face did redden, though.

"You'd be surprised what I can do, Potter," said Malfoy with an increasingly annoying sneer. He looked quite smug for reasons unknown and uncared about to Harry. "Don't underestimate me."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry called over his shoulder, unsure of where his newfound courage was coming from, but leaning on it for support. "Next time you go one on one with Lord Voldemort, be sure to let me know and I might show some fear of you."

Malfoy cringed at the name and spun on the spot, walking away with a huff.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Ginny said with a smile.

"Thanks," Harry replied, staring at Malfoy's back. "I have no idea where that came from, to be honest. It seemed to just ... happen."

"Malfoys tend to make that possible," said Ginny, showing disgust as she said 'Malfoy'. She tugged his arm. "Come on, let's keep looking for another compartment."

They continued along the corridors, looking at every compartment, but almost all of them were full of laughing students. To make it worse, some of the passengers even stared at him as he walked by, their eyes wary of him. One such student even opened the compartment door and asked why he wasn't at his bed in St. Mungo's.

"Go to hell, McLaggen!" was what Ginny had yelled in response, ending the confrontation with McLaggen slumping back into his compartment.

They continued down the train until they had reached the very last corridor, at the end of the train. Every compartment they had passed was full of passengers that Harry really didn't want to sit with, but at last they reached one that appeared to be empty.

"Let's just sit in here," Ginny said, "hopefully avoid another confrontation ..."

"Good idea," muttered Harry, his face a little red with irritation.

As they walked in, however, they realized that they were not as alone as they thought.

"Oh, sorry," said Ginny, rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment, "I didn't realize anyone else was here."

Harry apologized as well, looking at the two students whose privacy they had invaded. They both looked at him, not angrily but not happily, their expressions quite blank. They looked a little familiar to him. One was a tall black boy with high cheeks and brown eyes that did not reveal any emotion. He was dressed in a black dress shirt and trousers with dress shoes to match. The other was a girl who was a little taller than Ginny, with long black hair tied back in a tight ponytail and sparkling ice-blue eyes. She was dressed in a silver blouse and a black skirt that reached her knees, with dark high heels cladding her feet. Harry and Ginny looked down, embarrassed. Neither of them were dressed anywere near that well, and they had a feeling that they were about to be ridiculed for it. Harry wore a green sweater and baggy cargo pants; Ginny, a red sweater and blue jeans.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" Ginny asked calmly and politely, as though in apology for intruding without warning. Her eyes were on the dark boy. "Every other compartment is full."

"If you'd like," said the boy, motioning for them to sit down.

Since the boy and girl were both seated next to the window, Harry and Ginny chose seats across from one another beside the door, Harry taking a seat beside the girl, Ginny beside the boy. For a while, no one spoke into the silence, Harry choosing to look at his knees, Ginny staring at the ceiling. The two other students chose to stare at their new company, taking in their features. Neither were critical in their scrutiny.

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?" the black-haired girl said quietly after a little while. Her ice-blue eyes twinkled a little, almost as Headmaster Dumbledore's did on occasion. "My name is Daphne Greengrass, and this is Blaise Zabini. We're fifth year students here." She smiled as she spoke, and Zabini nodded politely, choosing to say nothing.

For some reason, Harry knew that he knew them by face, but could not remember which house they were in, or how he knew them. _I must have classes together with them and not really notice them ..._

"I'm Harry," he said, waving a hand at himself needlessly – Zabini gave a small chuckle while Greengrass giggled a little - "and this is Ginny Weasley," he finished, waving a hand at Ginny, who smiled at their company. "She's in fourth year."

"Nice to meet you, Potter, Miss Weasley," said Zabini quietly, inclining his head to both. "We have met quite a few times, though," he said to Harry. "We do have some classes together."

"Yeah, I guess we do," said Harry, though admittedly he could not think of which ones at the moment. Maybe they were Ravenclaws? He didn't take many classes with the Ravenclaws, and he didn't pay any attention to who was in those classes, except for a few he knew by face.

"Indeed," said Zabini, amused for some reason. "After all, Gryffindors and Slytherins have all sorts of classes in the same group."

This struck home. Now Harry remembered where these two looked familiar from. They were in the same year as him, but in Slytherin house. The reason he never noticed them was because the only Slytherins in his year who ever made themselves known were Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle tagging along them most of the time; the rest kept to themselves entirely, some taking Malfoy's side, some ignoring their fellow housemates. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable in this compartment anymore, having never been on good terms with anyone in Slytherin – Malfoy had seen to that – and he noticed that Ginny looked very uneasy, something both Slytherins seemed to notice as well.

"You have nothing to worry about from us," Daphne said calmly, twirling her wand around between two long fingers. "We're not out to make trouble. In fact," and now she waved a hand at Blaise, "he and I only have each other in Slytherin house. We're not interested in Draco Malfoy's parading around any more than you two are."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, feeling embarrassed again. Daphne had guessed what they were thinking almost down to the last syllable.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said a little sheepishly. "Old family habits die hard, and it's practically set in stone that all Weasleys must be sworn enemies with all Slytherins, especially with my brother, Ron. He hates the whole lot of you."

"I know," said Zabini, rolling his eyes a little. "Your brother is almost the Gryffindor version of Malfoy."

Harry thought about it and found that he really couldn't argue this. They both had similar prejudices when it came to the Hogwarts houses, after all. It was just that where Ron was quiet and envious, Malfoy was confident and outspoken.

"So, Potter," said Daphne quietly after a few minutes' silence, "you've told the world that He Who Must Not Be Named is back. Nobody but a select few believe you. How do you feel about that?"

This seemed like such an odd question that for a moment Harry didn't know how to answer. He had never really thought about it, and he felt a little like he had when Rita Skeeter, the _Daily Prophet's_ former writer, had interviewed him.

Daphne smiled. "It's only a question, Potter, nothing more."

It was Harry's turn to smile, deciding to answer the question in a mock-interviewee way. "Well, since the world thinks I'm crazy – which I have to say isn't new to me – and that the Headmaster's gone mad, I guess it feels good to know that people will finally stop asking me to see my scar, even if it means they'll duck in fear from me instead."

Daphne took all of this in and nodded curtly in understanding. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Oh," added Harry, "and by the way, you can call me Harry."

"I'd prefer you call me Ginny as well," said Ginny from the corner. "I don't really like my full name, so that's what I'm called. My full name is Ginevra, but ... you know, fancy name for not-so-fancy girl. Never really liked it much."

"That's ridiculous," exclaimed Zabini suddenly, staring directly into Ginny's eyes. She blinked, not quite understanding him. She was about to voice the question in her eyes, perhaps to ask what was so ridiculous, when he said in what he evidently thought was a gentlemanly tone, "A beautiful young girl such as yourself, not so fancy? I won't believe it." He pulled out a wand, and for a moment Ginny flinched back, though this might be due to the random outburst from Zabini as opposed to the wand. "Would you like me to Transfigure your clothes into something more like ours for you? It might make you feel fancier."

Ginny giggled, blushing deeply, and Daphne also let out a soft laugh. At Harry's perplexed look, she leaned in and whispered, "He Transfigured my clothes earlier. I didn't come on board the Hogwarts Express looking like a Muggle business attendant, I must tell you. I actually came on in a sweater and jeans, kind of like hers. He changed them in seconds; I didn't even have to change out of them first. He's the expert at Transfiguration in our year, in Slytherin anyway."

"Any particular reason why he did, or just for the hell of it?" Harry whispered back, watching as Zabini talked Ginny into his proposal and Ginny started her request, half exasperated and half amused.

Daphne laughed again. "No, I think he just enjoys the whole "mystique" of it, whatever that means. He's always been a perfect gentleman around women; he just isn't around women much in Hogwarts, and as such keeps to himself. I'm one of the only ones in Slytherin who talks to him. Sometimes Nott will sit and chat with him, and sometimes Tracey Davis, but other than that, he only really has me."

Harry was shocked to realize that there was someone at Hogwarts more lonely than he was, and it must have shown, as Daphne quickly said, "No, no, it doesn't bother him. He prefers it this way, actually. If Blaise cared about making a scene, he'd follow Malfoy's lead. He's just not interested in that."

They both watched as Ginny finished giving her request, and Zabini began Transfiguring her clothing before their eyes. Her red sweater was now a crimson-red sleeveless turtleneck, clinging to every part of her upper body and revealing things that Harry had never noticed about his best friend's sister before. Her jeans became a skirt similar to Daphne's, also form-fitting, and her shoes became elegant high-heels, cladding her feet magnificently. He then cast a charm that brought Ginny's hair up, and then down in elegant waves. She looked much older than fourteen now, and Harry found that he had a lot of difficulty looking away from her.

"Wow, Ginny," he said breathlessly, whistling softly under his breath. "You look amazing."

"Why thank you," Ginny said with a soft giggle, taking it all in. "I've never really had clothes like these, being the youngest of seven." Upon finishing examining herself and thanking Zabini, she ran her eyes up and down the length of Harry and giggled. "You don't look so bad yourself, you know."

"Huh?" He was confused.

Daphne was now laughing along with Ginny, while Zabini was just staring, the hint of a smile on his face. "Look down, Harry," Daphne said through her laughs.

He did so and gasped. His attire had completely changed as well. His pullover had been replaced with an emerald-green dress shirt tucked into jet-black trousers and topped off with black dress shoes. His head felt a little funny as well; he patted it and was shocked to find that his hair was completely flat, not a stuck-up hair to be found.

"Er, how in Merlin's name did you manage to make my hair lie flat?" he blurted out. "It's been sticking up since I was born."

"We Greengrasses have our secrets," Daphne said with a small grin; evidently, she had been the one to Transfigure his hair. When Harry continued to stare at her as if waiting for an answer, she smiled and said, "My younger sister, Astoria, taught me the spell. She was always good with those kind of spells. Fixing hair, fixing clothes, fixing nails, etc. You'd be surprised."

"I see. You're going to have to teach it to me one of these days, Daphne."

"Yes, I think I will," giggled Daphne. "That rat's nest on your head always was repelling to me, I'll have you know. Now you can give it a much better style."

Harry blushed at the praise and looked down over his new look. He had to admit that he liked the clothes that now adorned his body. He especially liked the emerald green. He looked up again to see his new companions watching him, as though waiting for feedback.

He smiled. "This is excellent. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome," said Zabini approvingly, glad that Harry was pleased with it. "People should learn that dressing appropriately is not a crime. In fact, it's quite enjoyable."

"Did you grow up living with aristocrats?" Ginny asked sarcastically, still looking herself over in amazement.

Zabini smiled. "Something like that. My mother always believed that dressing well could take you far, especially if nothing else would. That's not to say that clothes make the person, but you would be surprised, Ginevra, very surprised indeed ..."

Ginny's mouth dropped open, as did Harry's.

"Did – did you just call me Ginevra?" blurted out Ginny, her eyebrows rising.

_Here comes the storm,_ Harry thought to himself, instinctively drawing closer to the wall.

"Yes," Zabini replied, looking at her a little more intently than necessary and drawing a blush from her. "It's a beautiful name, and thus I must insist that I call you by it, if no one else shall."

Ginny stroked her chin with one red-painted fingernail, thinking it over. It was obvious that nobody had ever called her by her full name, aside from her family – specifically Molly Weasley, her mother. Harry knew that she hated being called by it even by her mother. However, she also didn't know if she could say no to this boy, who seemed bent on making sure his two new friends had high self-respect. It was a tough decision, all in all.

"All right, Blaise, you may," she finally decided. "But only you can call me that." She looked at Harry with a deadly gaze, her eyes narrowing dangerously at seeing him almost cowering. "ONLY you, Blaise," she said dangerously, looking straight into Harry's eyes as she said it.

"I get it, Gin, I get it!" Harry said, raising his hands in surrender. "No need to attack me with my bogeys like you do your brothers!"

She grinned ferally, twirling her wand in her fingers. "I could do that, couldn't I? But no, I wouldn't. Not to you, Harry." Her eyes flashed mischeviously. "_You_ have nothing to worry about. Ronald, on the other hand ..." She trailed off, the look in her eyes signaling to Harry that Ron would have a lot to worry about whether he called his sister by full name or not.

Daphne and Zabini watched the conversation from the side, both wearing looks of identical amusement on their faces.

* * *

The afternoon passed by a lot more quickly than Harry and Ginny could have thought possible. They found that as time went on they enjoyed the company of the two rebel Slytherins more and more. Thinking this made it hard for Harry, who felt as though he was betraying his two best friends, but as the day progressed he thought less about Ron and Hermione, who had not shown up after the Prefect meeting, and more about his two new friends. He especially liked this Daphne girl, who seemed to enjoy listening to what Harry had to say, even though his part in the conversation was quite limited.

It was around midday when someone finally came to the door of the compartment. Ginny was enjoying a nap, Daphne was reading a book and Harry and Zabini had been discussing the upcoming Quidditch season. The door opened, and the first thing heard was a sneering laugh.

"_Now_ what do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "Don't you ever get tired of coming after me? Go pick on some other Gryffindor and leave me alone for a change."

"What? And miss out on tormenting my 'old friend'?" Malfoy drawled, his sneer etched in stone on his face. It became more pronounced as he looked Harry up and down. "_What_ in the world are you wearing, Potter? Finally decided that those filthy Muggle rags you wear to King's Cross every year weren't worth having? Moving from street bum to regular bum?"

"Leave. Us. Alone," Harry seethed, his teeth clenched as well as his fists.

"And the Weasley girl, too?" he chuckled as he stared at Ginny's sleeping form. "She has quite the body for a blood-traitor." He let out a low whistle to emphasize this, ignoring Harry's death glare, which would have incinerated Malfoy should looks be able to kill. His eyes then turned to Daphne, who had not looked up from her book, and Zabini, who was watching Malfoy through narrowed eyes. "And what have we here? Two more blood-traitors, eh? You disgust me, Greengrass, and you revolt me, Zabini."

Zabini gave a dry chuckle, while Daphne outright snorted.

"The feeling's mutual, Malfoy," she shot back at him, not bothering to look up from her book.

"While I would say the feeling's mutual," Zabini replied in a low voice, completely different from his earlier cheerful tones, "you go far beyond just revolting me, Draco. Now please leave. You're disturbing our otherwise pleasant afternoon."

"But I don't think I will," said Malfoy with a grin, looking at Ginny again. "She looks like she could do with far better company than you three pathetic morons could ever give her."

"And what kind of company do you think she needs? Yours?" Daphne snorted again, this time lowering her book and holding her wand in her hand. "I think Ginny would rather eat bogey-flavored Berty-Botts Beans before hanging out with you willingly, Draco. Come to think of it, so would I."

"Watch your mouth, blood traitor!" snarled Malfoy, raising his wand at her. "You'd better learn to respect your superiors, Greengrass. You might get hurt otherwise."

This time it was Harry who snorted, followed by outright laughter.

"You tried this before, Malfoy, just a few hours ago," he said through his laughter. "I kind of refuted that, remember? As I recall, all it took was saying one thing: _Voldemort._"

"Shut up!" Malfoy hissed, covering his ears. "Don't say that name!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that your dad and your pals' dads were chums with that maniac. Pardon that."

Harry had no idea where his newfound confidence in facing Malfoy was coming from, but he was enjoying it more and more every time.

"You're full of it, Potter," said Malfoy, replacing his baffled look with a sneer. His eyes turned back to Ginny, who had taken the bad timing of shifting a little in her sleep, her clothing ruffling a little and revealing her bare stomach and some of her upper legs. "And all of that is beside the point. I'm here for the Weaslette. Her and I are going to _get to know each other_, if you three idiots catch my drift." He gave a suggestive wink, and all three looked disgusted. "Grab her, Crabbe."

Harry couldn't believe his ears, which turned red in an instant along with the rest of his face. His wand was in his hand almost instantly, and all eyes watched as Crabbe reached forward towards Ginny, but his hand didn't get within a foot of Ginny before he fell to the ground, hit by a Stunning Spell. All eyes snapped to Harry, who had fired the spell. He was livid with anger.

"Keep your dirty fat hands away from her, you filthy bastard!" Harry snarled at Crabbe's limp form. He was on his feet now, his wand pointed at the spot where Crabbe had been standing. He turned to face the other two enemy Slytherins, who were still recovering from their shock. Some kind of beast-like anger controlled his tone as he spat, "Get out of here, Malfoy, or I'll do worse to you!"

"Is that a threat?" Malfoy drawled, his eyes focused on Harry's wand. He looked slightly scared, but he fingered his Prefect badge as he spoke.

"No," spat Harry, "it's a promise! I could bring you down in seconds if I wanted to, Prefect or not. Now get lost, and don't you dare bother us again!"

Goyle had already run for it, leaving Malfoy on his own. He seemed to realize the significance of not having Goyle there, and so backed up a little, his eyes on the other two wands now trained on him, the wands of Daphne and Zabini. Ginny stirred and opened her eyes, looking wearily at the situation unravelling before her before resting on Malfoy. Seething, and with a look of pure loathing, Malfoy turned around and ran out, but not before shouting over his shoulder, "This isn't over, Potter!" Zabini pointed down and cancelled the effects of the Stunning Spell, and Crabbe stood up and bolted as well.

For a moment, it was completely silent.

"Er ... what just happened?" yawned Ginny sleepily, straightening her clothing out.

"Malfoy and his goon squad tried to grab you and leave," Zabini said coldly, his angry gaze on the doorway, where Malfoy had been standing several seconds before. "Harry stopped them by Stunning Crabbe and then threatening the other two with worse. He was very angry." He looked at Harry, whose wand was emiting red sparks from its tip. "Still is, really."

Harry had sat down now, still fuming a little. It was bad enough that two of his friends were ignoring him, but now Malfoy was targeting one of the last ones he had? He would not accept that and he would not tolerate it. It was too much. The first thing he was going to do after the Welcoming Feast was go to Professor Dumbledore about this. No matter how annoyed he felt towards the old Headmaster at the moment, he needed to report this incident, even if it didn't solve the problem. He'd finally had enough of Malfoy's torments.

He was broken from his anger when he noticed Ginny lean forward toward him. She placed one hand on his cheek and kissed him on the other cheek. "Thank you for being my protector," she said sweetly, giving a bright smile. It was enough to cheer him up, if only a little, and he could tell that this was Ginny's intention, for her eyes lit up.

"Any time, Ginny," he said, echoing her words from earlier.

Smoothing out his dress shirt and pocketing his wand, he stood up and closed the compartment door, locking it as well. He didn't want to deal with any more confrontations with anyone today. As he sat down and the four started up another conversation, he felt the day begin to slip by again as he enjoyed his newfound friends' company, and hoped that this new friendship would last.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express finally pulled into the station sometime in the evening, and Harry looked up, surprised that they were already in Hogsmeade. He had thought they had a couple of hours to go.

"Fifth year, here I come," he muttered under his breath. "I wonder who'll be after my blood this time ..."

As they piled out onto the platform, Harry saw Malfoy staring at him from the other side, his tall form visible over the heads of the younger students. He narrowed his eyes dangerously, and Malfoy smirked at him before vanishing in the crowd. Next moment, his three friends were standing around him.

"Let's go find a carriage," Ginny suggested, her fatigue gone after a few hours of sleep. "I'm hungry."

"Then we shall be off," said Zabini in a carrying voice, raising his arm. "May I, Ginevra?"

Ginny looked surprised and blushed a little, but linked arms with him regardless, saying, "Why thank you, Blaise," and giggling some more. Baffled, Harry watched them leave, before he felt Daphne poke his arm.

"Let's not be left out, Harry," she said with a slight giggle of her own. "We should go with them if we want to share a carriage, and what better way to?"

Harry smiled, offering her his arm, which she took, and together they walked after Zabini and Ginny, who were drawing the attention of many students, most of whom were laughing at the antics of the two; apparently Zabini was taking the role of gentleman to a whole new hierarchy level. He wondered if he should follow Zabini's lead – he knew the boy didn't care about making himself look foolish to others, as he wouldn't be doing it otherwise – but Harry knew that he was far too shy to ever copy what Zabini was doing.

And still Harry had not seen Ron or Hermione since the train had left King's Cross. He was beginning to feel resentful towards them. Yes, he was happy that they were now together, but did they have to shaft him out because of it? He needed his friends right now, and though he had made two more friends, the thought that the two best friends he had wanted nothing to do with anyone except each other made him extremely angry and resentful.

_Well, fine then,_ Harry thought bitterly. _These two seem nice enough, and I still have Ginny. They don't want me around, they won't have me around. I'm not going to try anymore after tonight._

He climbed into the carriage after his three friends, listening to their conversation, unaware of Daphne's blue eyes focusing on him from beside him and Zabini and Ginny's conversation from in front of him due to being lost in his own thoughts.

_If the trial from the summer is anything to go by, I'm betting this year is going to be the worst year we've had yet ... and this is from having two years with Death Eater professors. I'll never forget when Quirrell revealed Voldemort under his turban, or when Mad-Eye Moody turned out to be that madman Crouch._ He shuddered a little. _I just hope we don't get another Voldemort-supporter this year. Anything else is fair game to me._

He started when he felt a hand on his forearm, and he looked to see Daphne staring intensely at him.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," she said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he said quietly, not wanting to talk about it to anyone right now.

Daphne squeezed his arm lightly, as though to comfort him. "It gets easier," was all she said before turning to look out of the carriage, her eyes on the forest.

Harry stared at her with a blank look. Did Daphne know what he was thinking? The way she had sounded so assuring, and her understanding look; it was as though she knew exactly what he thought. He had never suspected anyone of being able to read minds except Lord Voldemort himself and, on occasion, Professor Severus Snape. But this girl's look had been incredibly understanding, none the less.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Zabini asked, seeing him staring without really seeing. Daphne and Ginny were now looking at him curiously as well; he had apparently blanked out.

"I'm fine," Harry assured them. "Just thinking about things ..."

The carriage finally stopped in front of the front entrance, and the four began their trek into the castle. The good side was that it was a clear, peaceful night, no clouds and a nice breeze. The bad side was that said peace was ruined the second they walked into the castle by a flying water balloon. Harry threw out his arms to either side, stopping his friends, and everybody froze as a water balloon crashed on the floor right where Ginny had been about to walk.

"Peeves!" shouted Harry angrily. "Get down here!"

A loud cackle was heard and another water balloon was thrown, hitting the head of an unsuspecting second year girl, who burst into tears. "Go on, take a shot, Potty!" called out a carefree voice cracking with laughter, and Peeves the poltergeist appeared in the air above them.

"_Ventus!_" shouted a powerful voice.

A gust of wind seemed to blow from another end of the entrance hall, hitting all of them, but it was clear why it was used: Peeves was suddenly blown out of the air and through the wall, cursing all the way. A few seconds later he popped his head out, looking around, but the same spell hit him again and, unable to stop it, Peeves was blown through the wall.

"There, now," said a loud voice, a male's, from the other end of the hall. "That ought to stop that moron's excitement for a little while."

Everybody's heads turned towards the staircase leading to the upper section of the hall, where a man with long brown hair flying down to his back in all directions and a dark colored cloak was walking down, a cane in his hand that evidently helped him to walk. He reached the bottom of the steps and stopped, seeing all of the perplexed eyes on him.

"What?" he asked, leaning on his cane, which reached a height along his stomach. He stared at them through two different-colored eyes: one was brown while one was grey. "Ain't ever seen a man with a cane before? Get on into the Great Hall, all of ya, and make it snappy!" He turned and walked into the Great Hall himself, not waiting for the students to move.

Mass chatter erupted amongst the students as they began walking into the Great Hall.

"What in blazes was all _that_ about?"

"He looks like he could be Filch's son."

"Except the eyes."

"Those are the weirdest eyes I've ever seen!"

"What's with the cane? He looks like he's in his forties at oldest!"

"_Merlin, I hope he isn't like Filch!_"

Harry, Ginny, Zabini and Daphne entered the hall with the other students, taking everything in. It was already almost full, some of the students having arrived on earlier carriages getting here before them. Upon reaching the end of the Gryffindor table, he and Ginny turned to face their two new friends, who were staring at an empty end of the Slytherin table with identical looks of something Harry did not recognize. Perhaps it was sadness?

"Looks like we'll be going our separate ways for the time being," said Zabini in a low, carrying tone. "So Daphne and I must bid you two farewell for now." He took Ginny's hand and brushed his lips against it, to Harry's shock, Ginny's blushes and Daphne's giggles. "Until next time, mon cher." With one last nod, he and Daphne turned and walked off to the Slytherin table, leaving Harry and Ginny standing there, looking halfway to being startled.

After snapping back to reality, Harry motioned for them to find a spot at the table and they walked towards it, both reflecting on the last several hours.

"This easily takes the cake for being the weirdest day I've ever experienced," Harry muttered under his breath, but he was smiling, as was Ginny, who had heard him and voiced her agreement.

* * *

Author's Note: I know, I know, it's been a long while since I've updated a story. Now that work has slowed down a little and everyone's in college/uni, I have time to write. Some of my stories will remain on hiatus while I'll update others from time to time. The main ones I'll be working on are _A Life of Rebellion_ and possibly, on occasion, _To Deny Your Fate._ That's not a promise for the latter one, though. I'm still working on editing the story as a whole.

Now, to this story. It's a bit of a change from what I usually write, but I figured a change was in order. Ideas come to me like lightning and sometimes fade off (which is why I sometimes stop halfway through the story for some of them; writer's block is evil), and this one may or may not be any different. You can hope to see an update at least once every three weeks or so, though. If you don't, assume I'm either dead or out of town and away from a computer. (But seriously, don't assume I'm dead. I'd feel crappy.)

Anyway, that's it from me. Hope you enjoyed the opening chapter, and we'll see you at chapter 2, which I'm working on as I speak.


	2. Chapter 2: Umbridge & Anashi

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Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On the rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Full Summary: The summer following the Triwizard Tournament has been hard for Harry. To make matters worse, his two best friends have finally gotten together and begun to unknowingly edge him out. Feeling more abandoned than ever, he is surprised to find shared company from three people, one of whom seems to share and understand his pain, as his life twists and turns further...

Disclaimer: Mme. Joanne Rowling owns the series as a whole, and I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review or feedback accusing me of plagiarism will be automatically deleted. You will be given credit where credit is due, rest assured.

* * *

**Chapter 2:**** Umbridge and Anashi**

Being back at Hogwarts was everything Harry had fully expected and more, and what made it worse was actually knowing that it would happen. He and Ginny had taken seats near the end of the table, and it couldn't have been more obvious how people avoided the spot at the table simply because he was sitting there; he was torn as to whether the majority gave odd looks or muttered under their breath when they saw him. He couldn't understand how it was that his entire house, with few exceptions, could believe that he would lie about his past enemy coming back for a second round. To make matters worse, his main defender in this case would not even so much as look at him. As Harry glanced at the staff table for what felt like the tenth time in the last five minutes, he saw that Albus Dumbledore was still looking away from him pointedly and obviously, though he seemed to be making an effort to hide it.

Harry didn't care about that at the moment, however. He had other things to worry about.

He and Ginny chatted for a while, waiting for the first years to file in and get Sorted by the Sorting Hat into their new houses. They had still not seen Ron and Hermione, though Harry knew that he had seen a brief glimpse of bushy brown hair somewhere down the table. _So much for friends 'til the end,_ he thought bitterly.

A moment later, Neville Longbottom joined them.

"Hey, Harry, Ginny," he said a little happily as he took a seat beside Harry, who did not look up. Ginny sighed, knowing full well what was about to happen, but not bothering to do anything to stop it.

A moment passed before Neville, looking confused, lost his nerve and choked out, "What?"

"You're the first person to acknowledge us since we got here," Harry said bitterly in a low whisper. He was staring determinedly at the spoon in his hand. "Most everyone thinks I'm as barmy as Fudge is having the _Daily Prophet_ tell everyone I am. Oh, and that _he_," he jerked a thumb at Dumbledore, "is completely mad as a hatter in his old age. The mad hatter won't even so much as look at me."

Ginny placed a hand to her forehead, massaging it lightly. She did not like where this was going.

"Well," said Neville, looking a little startled, "if it helps at all, I believe you, Harry." Said boy looked up, surprise in his gaze. "I've known you for four years, and you've always been a modest, caring person. You've never been bigoted or full of yourself like half of Hogwarts and the Ministry always says you are. You wouldn't just say that You-Know-Who –"

"Please," Harry whispered, "just call him by name. It's not a difficult name to say, Nev."

"A-all right," said Neville, clearly intimidated. "You wouldn't just say that V-V-Voldemort" – he shuddered a little, though Harry had expected it – "would come back without having a good reason for saying so. I know better than almost anybody that you hate the attention you get, no matter what kind it is – good or bad."

"Exactly," added Ginny, "and anybody who knows you at all would know the same thing. You have nothing to gain from telling everyone that Voldemort is back, anyway." Harry was mildly shocked that Ginny could say his name, but did not comment, choosing to let her continue. "He's your worst nightmare. He took everything from you, and you got famous for it. The Ministry doesn't deserve your forgiveness even if you're ever going to be willing to give it."

All of this was, surprisingly enough to himself, exactly what Harry needed to hear.

"Thanks, guys," he said sincerely.

"No problem, Harry," they both replied.

He was not cheered up, but he was in better spirits as he scanned the hall, looking around for any familiar faces. Every year of students was in now except the first years, who were presumably waiting outside the hall, terrified of what was to come. He saw some of his fellow classmates from other houses, including Ernie Macmillan, who smiled and nodded at him, and Hannah Abbott, who winked. He saw Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table halfway across the hall from him, though to his surprise he didn't feel the usual feeling in his stomach at seeing her. In fact, she didn't look as amazing to him as she always had since third year.

_Weird... Maybe I'm just not interested in her anymore, but why?_ There were a few reasons off the top of his head, but he didn't let them plague his mind right now.

He kept scanning the table, seeing what looked to be a fourth year Ravenclaw girl, who was sitting alone, staring straight at Neville, who, Harry noticed, seemed to be blushing a little. Deciding he'd ask later, Harry examined the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy and his cronies were talking loudly and obnoxiously as usual, but now that Harry really looked he saw that there were Slytherins who acted ... well, normal. Among them he saw Daphne and Blaise, who were sitting alone together, chatting amiably. Daphne caught his eye and smiled at him, and he smiled back, not realizing that the same feeling he had always felt when looking at Cho Chang last year was suddenly back when he looked at Daphne. Along the Slytherin table he saw older students who looked a little disgusted at their fellow house members, Malfoy being the main one. _So they're not all the same,_ Harry concluded. _That's good to know. Maybe they're not all Dark wizards and witches like everyone I know says Slytherins are._

Now Harry turned his gaze up to the staff table. He saw Professor Flitwick, the Charms professor, chatting with Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. Professor McGonagall's chair was empty, but he knew that his Transfiguration professor was talking to the first years just outside of the hall. To his dismay he saw Professor Snape, who had been staring at him before he had looked and had turned away with a sneer evident on his face. Ignoring his hated Potions professor, he saw the man with the crazy hair and different colored eyes sitting next to Snape, his arms folded and eyes closed, ignoring everyone and everything around him, and a toad-like woman sitting beside him, who was scanning the hall as well. With a start, he realized that the same toad-like woman had been at his hearing over the summer.

_What's Fudge's undersecretary doing here?_

Putting that little discovery aside for now, he noticed that Rubeus Hagrid, his friend and professor, was not at the table. His brow furrowing, he realized that he had not seen Hagrid at Hogsmeade station, either. His realization was confirmed when the staff entryway opened and an elderly woman Harry knew to be Professor Grubbly-Plank entered, taking Hagrid's seat. Deciding he'd think on that later, he finally looked over at Professor Dumbledore, who had been observing Harry and had turned away the split-second Harry had looked at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

_What are you hiding, Professor?_ Harry pondered.

Before he could really scan the rest of the students and staff, the doors to the Hall opened and Professor McGonagall entered, followed by two or three dozen kids, all presumably eleven years of age and beginning their new life at Hogwarts. They were led to the far end of the hall, in front of the steps leading to the staff table. At the top of the steps was a stool holding a very old hat. The age of the hat was forgotten, however, as it opened to reveal a mouth and began to sing:

_In times of old, when I was new,  
And Hogwarts barely started,  
The founders of our noble school  
Thought never to be parted.  
United by a common goal,  
They had the selfsame yearning  
To make the world's best magic school  
And pass along their learning.  
"Together we will build and teach"  
The four good friends decided.  
And never did they dream that they  
Might some day be divided.  
For were there such friends anywhere  
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?  
Unless it was the second pair  
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,  
So how could it have gone so wrong?  
How could such friendships fail?  
Why, I was there, so I can tell  
The whole sad, sorry tale.  
Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those  
Whose ancestry's purest."  
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose  
Intelligence is surest"  
Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those  
With brave deeds to their name."  
Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot  
And treat them just the same"  
These differences caused little strife,  
When first they came to light.  
For each of the four founders had  
A house in which they might  
Take only those they wanted so.  
For instance, Slytherin  
Took only pure-blood wizards  
Of great cunning just like him.  
And only those of sharpest mind  
Were taught by Ravenclaw  
While the bravest and the boldest  
Went to daring Gryffindor.  
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest.  
And taught them all she knew.  
Thus, the houses and their founders  
Maintained friendships firm and true.  
So Hogwarts worked in harmony,  
For several happy years.  
But then discord crept among us  
Feeding on all our faults and fears.  
The Houses that, like pillars four  
Had once held up our school  
Now turned upon each other and  
Divided, sought to rule.  
And for a while it seemed the school  
Must meet an early end.  
What with dueling and with fighting  
And the clash of friend on friend.  
And at last there came a morning  
When old Slytherin departed  
And though the fighting then died out,  
He left us quite down-hearted.  
And ever since the founders four  
Were wittled down to three  
Had the houses been united,  
As they once were meant to be.  
And now the sorting hat is here  
And you all know the score:  
I sort you into houses  
Because that is what I'm for.  
But this year I'll go further  
Listen closely to my song.  
Though condemned am I to split you,  
Still I worry that it's wrong.  
Though I must fulfill my duty  
And must quarter every year,  
Still I wonder whether sorting  
May not bring the end I fear.  
Oh know the perils, read the signs,  
The warning history shows  
For our Hogwarts is in danger,  
From external deadly foes.  
And we must unite inside her,  
Or we'll crumble from within.  
I have told you, I have warned you.  
Let the sorting now begin._

There was a loud applause as the Sorting Hat ended its song and lay lifeless on the stool, awaiting the first mind to Sort. Some, however, had forgotten applause, noticing the difference from other years.

"The song's different this time," Harry muttered, staring at the old hat. "It's singing a different tune."

"Of course it is, the song's different every year," said Neville, looking over at him. "I thought you knew that?"

"That's not what I meant, Neville," Harry told him, still looking at the hat. His green eyes narrowed slightly at it. "What I mean is that the hat usually sings about Sorting, and this time it sang against it."

"I caught on that, too," piped up Ginny, who had been staring at Blaise Zabini. She looked at Harry. "It's never done that before, has it?"

"I've only ever heard the song twice – once in first year, once last year – and I've never heard it sing about how Sorting is bad," Harry replied. He was now looking at Dumbledore, who was still adamantly looking away from him. "I wonder if Dumbledore told the hat to sing that? It sounds like the kind of thing Dumbledore would promote."

"It's possible," said Neville, who now understood what Harry had meant. "But it isn't likely. Wasn't Dumbledore a Gryffindor when he was here as a student?"

"He's still always hated diversity amongst the students," said Harry in return. He looked away from Dumbledore, tired of seeing the aged headmaster's avoidance, and looked at his friends. "He even told us that division was bad just last year, during the feast and Diggory's memorial, don't you remember?" Seeing Neville nod, Harry continued, "I don't think Dumbledore's ever liked the system for putting people in different houses. He treats all of the students fairly, but he likes to avoid issues unless they're directly brought to him, otherwise he probably would have stopped the whole "Potter Stinks" badge issue last year. It just wasn't important enough to him."

"He could due with toning down Snape a notch or two," muttered Neville bitterly, staring at Snape, who was sneering back at them. "The man just won't leave us alone, will he?"

"I'm a carbon copy of his childhood enemy, not to mention the son of said enemy, and you're too terrified of him to concentrate in Potions. He's not going to let up on either of us until we're forced out of his class, or expelled, whichever happens first."

"Let's just not get expelled," Neville said with a grin. "We've come too close to that already."

Harry caught the reference to their midnight meeting with an angry, ferocious Cerberus named Fluffy back in first year, but did not comment on it. He had done and seen far worse in Hogwarts since that little episode nearly four years ago. After all, he had faced off different variations of Voldemort a couple of times in the last few years, two of them being in Hogwarts. He shunned those thoughts from his mind; he did not want to remember the first time he had ever met Voldemort face-to-face, when the Dark wizard, in a state of half-life, had been possessing Professor Quirrell, their first year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"You've come close," said Harry with a small grin. "I actually have been."

Neville, who had been sipping from a goblet of wine, sprayed the entire mouthful out of his mouth, some of it soaking Ginny.

"_What_? You were _expelled_?"

"Yes," said Harry in a forced whisper, "but don't broadcast it for the Hall to hear; it's not something we need our dear friend Malfoy to know! If he doesn't already know, I mean. Besides, the expulsion was revoked. Why else would I be here, sitting normally, like everyone else?"

Neville grinned sheepishly, having overlooked this very simple fact.

"Sorry, mate. Wasn't thinking clearly."

"S'all right, Neville," said Harry, shaking his head at his friend. "I'm sure we've all made that mistake once or twice ... somewhere ..."

"Oh, shut up," grinned Neville before he looked back up at the Sorting, which was going through the Ks. Ten minutes later, the Sorting was finally done, Gryffindor having received ten first years, and Professor Dumbledore walked up to the top of the steps, staring down at his students.

"The highest of welcomes to all of you," he said in a carrying voice filled with warmth, spreading his arms wide. "I am glad to see that everyone was able to return for another year of lessons, eager to fill in the empty spaces left from the summer. Before you do, however, there are some words that must be said. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Now enjoy the feast, my children." He strode back to the headmaster chair and sat down, beaming at the applause at his words.

Harry and Neville had burst out laughing when Dumbledore had said the four random words, as had everyone from fifth year and above, with the exception of the Slytherins; Dumbledore had used those same four words in their first year, after saying he had "a few words" for everyone.

_The old man sure knows how to keep us entertained,_ Harry thought appreciatively.

Loading his plate with all of his favorites, Harry fired up more conversation. "How was your summer, Neville?"

"Oh, it was excellent!" Neville said, beaming. "My gran and I went abroad for a while, visiting different places, and I even got this new plant! I'll show you it when we get back to the dorm. It's called _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_, and you two really need to see it!"

Knowing how fond of plants Neville was, Harry did not argue, though he doubted he would be interested in what he was about to be shown.

"How'd your summer go, Harry?" asked Neville with interest. "Go on any more daring and dangerous adventures?"

Harry stiffled a snort at this. "Nah, not with the Dursleys." His eyes narrowed a little, but neither Neville nor Ginny noticed. "They try to make sure I'm as bored or miserable as possible whenever they're able to. No, I think I had a pretty quiet summer on the whole, all things considered –"

"Oh, please," interrupted Ginny, who had not been able to suppress her snort. She had just finished drying off the spit-out liquid. "You and your cousin were attacked by Dementors, Harry."

Neville's eyes widened. "D-Dementors?"

"Oh, yeah ..."

He didn't really want to explain his summer, but Neville's eyebrows were raising as well, so he sighed and began, "A couple of weeks ago, my cousin Dudley and I were attacked by a pair of Dementors. They nearly sucked our souls out. I tried the Patronus twice, neither driving them back, but the third one worked. When I got home, my uncle and aunt threw a fit, thinking I'd hexed Dudley, and minutes later an owl flew in, its letter expelling me from Hogwarts."

"You were expelled for _defending yourself_?" Neville whispered, having remembered Harry's earlier comment that he didn't want to be overheard.

"Only for about half an hour," Harry replied. "Dumbledore managed to straighten it all out, and I got a hearing instead. They tried their best to expel me there, though. Did you know Fudge had a full Wizengamot trial about it?"

"For a simple case of underage magic?" Neville muttered incredulously.

"Well, that's what we thought as well," said Harry, staring up at the toad-like woman; he thought her name was Umbridge, or something. "It was my second warning, but setting an entire criminal trial about it seemed like overkill. Then I realized that it was Fudge's doing."

"To discredit you further."

"Exactly. Fudge wants me out of school, out of the way, just like he does Dumbledore. It wouldn't surprise me if he passes a law that grants him control of Hogwarts, if that's possible. He took over the Wizengamot after Dumbledore was sacked, so he might be able to."

"He wouldn't be able to if more than half of the Wizengamot disagrees with him," piped up Ginny, who was listening intently to the conversation. When Harry and Neville both looked at her, surprised that she knew this, Ginny elaborated, "Dad seems to think along the same lines as Harry, and he told me when I asked. Fudge can't do a thing if there isn't a majority voting."

Feeling a little more assured at this, Harry looked away from the staff table, his mind still going over every idea as to why the Umbridge woman, of all people, would be here. _Maybe Fudge is trying to take over Hogwarts anyway,_ he silently pondered. _He is worried about the public's reactions to Dumbledore telling them about Voldemort being back. No, I take that back – he's worried about what will happen to his job as Minister, not the public._

"Hey," Harry said to Ginny, "did Mr. Weasley ever mention a woman at the Ministry who looks a lot like a toad?"

"Hm?" Ginny followed Harry's gaze, her eyes coming to rest on the Umbridge woman, who was pointedly averting her eyes from them and eating her dinner. "Yeah, she works for Fudge. Senior Undersecretary, or something. Why do you ask?"

"She was at my trial, too. She was one of the ones who wanted me convicted and expelled; she voted against clearing me of all charges. Do you know what her name is?"

"I think it's Dolores Umbridge," Ginny said quietly. "Wouldn't they have said it at the hearing? They usually use full names."

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't really paying much attention; I was too worried about what would happen if I wasn't let off."

"That's true," Ginny muttered. She looked back up at Umbridge. "I wonder what she's doing here? The Undersecretaries usually never go out and about, and most certainly not to Hogwarts of all places. Do you think Dumbledore gave her a teaching position here? Maybe because he couldn't find anyone else?"

"I really don't think Dumbledore liked her enough to give her one," said Harry, his brows furrowing a little, "but I don't know what Dumbledore thinks anymore. He might have given her the job. We'll know in a few minutes."

Sure enough, the feast had ended a few minutes later, their conversation having run through it as they had eaten, and soon Professor Dumbledore was standing before the hundreds of students once again, his arms spread wide.

"Thank you," he said warmly, a large smile on his face, as the students applauded him politely, though it was clear that some did not. "A hearty congratulations to all of you as well, especially our newest students, who I hope have felt a spot of welcoming during the feast." Nearly three-dozen smiles reached out to him, and Dumbledore smiled himself, continuing on. "As you all recall, the Quidditch season was canceled last year due to the Triwizard Tournament. You may all rest easy tonight knowing that the season will be open again this year."

A thunderous applause was heard throughout the room from the older students, especially the Weasley twins. Harry and Neville had applauded as well, the former having missed the sport in his year absense from it. He loved being a Seeker, and he knew that the Weasley twins loved being Beaters.

"Please remember that only second years and above are permitted to play for their house team, and that tryouts will be posted by the captains of the respective teams at their leisure. Know that not everyone will be able to get on the team, but that you will always have the chance next year should you miss out this year.

"Mr. Filch," he continued, "has asked me to remind you that there is to be no magic cast in the corridors between or outside of classes, and that the list of banned objects, whose numbers are endless," he looked at the Weasley twins as he said this, "can be found on his office door.

"We have three additions to our staff this year. As Professor Alastor Moody was unable to return for another year of teaching after his 'incident' last year, as it were, we are pleased to announce that we have found another professor to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would like you all to please give a warm welcome to Professor Aiyasis Anashi, who sent word from far from here saying he would be glad to teach the subject this year."

The man with the wild hair and different-colored eyes raised a hand of lazy acknowledgment as the students applauded him. A particularly loud applause could be heard from the students who had witnessed Professor Anashi throw off Peeves the poltergeist with an unknown spell.

As the applause died down, Professor Dumbledore continued. "Yes, a warm welcome to Professor Anashi, and we hope that he will do a splendid job at teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. We are also pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking over the class Care of Magical Creatures in the absense of Professor Hagrid." A warm applause rang through the room for Professor Grubbly-Plank, who stood up and bowed.

"Harry, wasn't she the replacement woman from last year?" Ginny asked a little icily.

"Yeah." Harry had been staring at her as well. "I guess Hagrid isn't back from his mission yet."

"What are you talking about? What mission?" Neville interrupted, his curiosity perked.

"Er ..." Harry cast around for a topic quickly, not wanting to let Neville know about anything involved with the Order's business. "He went abroad during the summer to do something for Dumbledore, and he's not back yet, as far as I know." _There, I told him without really telling him._

This seemed good enough for Neville, who turned around to face Dumbledore, who had continued without interruption, "... and we would also like you all to welcome Madam Dolores Umbridge, who has been assigned by the Ministry of Magic to be the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts this year."

There was no applause this time, no cheers, no shouts. The student body as a whole was deathly silent.

"What in the hell is a High Inquisitor?" someone shouted from the back of the Hufflepuff table.

"How come I get the feeling that it's nothing good?" yelled Terry Boot from Ravenclaw.

"SILENCE!" yelled a loud voice, and Professor Anashi stood up, his wild hair flying around him. "Ten points from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff! You will not speak unless spoken to, Mr. Boot! And you as well, Mr. Smith! You will show proper respect to your academic supervisors! Do I make myself clear?"

"Thank you, Professor Anashi," said Professor Dumbledore calmly, not looking at the new professor some were beginning to think was mad. He did not ask how Professor Anashi knew the names of the two students. "Now," he continued, "I would like to hear a better welcoming for Madam Umbridge, who is, after all, a guest in this castle. Now, please clap for her again."

This time the students applauded, though it couldn't be clearer that it was forced. Umbridge didn't seem to care, though; she smiled and waved at the students, her look as forced as the applause she was being given. _She's like they are, kind of,_ Harry thought with a bit of amusement.

"Now," said Dumbledore with a twinkling gaze, "a few last ramblings from a crazy old man before you retire for the night." The students laughed, some politely and some rather guiltily, but Dumbledore merely smiled and continued. "The staff at Hogwarts has been informed that there are stray Dementors wandering around Muggle towns and attacking the innocent. One such attack occurred in Little Whinging, Surrey, nearly a month ago. Because of these random attacks, and because of other events that the Ministry deems to be unnecessary to mention, let alone warn about," and here, his gaze hardened slightly, "Hogwarts will be increasing its security. Therefore, we must ask that you do not wander around the castle after curfew. Anybody caught outside of their common room after curfew will be punished most harshly, in order to impress the fact that the wizarding world is in a fair bit of danger."

His grandfatherly gaze returned, though his eyes lacked their sparkle, as he said, "There is a time for resting easy, and I must warn that now is not that time. We are facing a great enemy outside of Hogwarts. While the Minister for Magic does not agree, and while some of you may also choose not to heed this warning, I feel it would not be right to tell you all, no matter the consequence for my warning. Lord Voldemort has indeed returned, he has indeed taken the life of one of our own students – who, might I add, would have been graduating this year had Voldemort not taken his life – and he had indeed been working to bringing the world back into the era of darkness that it faced two decades ago. Know this: you may play ignorant to what is happening; we will not pass judgment here at Hogwarts. However, it would be wise to study harder, work harder, and do everything in your power to succeed. It is no longer just about getting good grades and succeeding in your classes; it is now about learning to defend yourself in any situation, and learning to survive."

The hall was deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop and echo. Some of the students were looking at Dumbledore in horror, while others were giving outright disbelieving looks. Every teacher present was looking grim except Professor Snape, whose face was quite blank, and Professor Anashi, who had his eyes closed and head down again, as though in meditation. It was Madam Umbridge, however, who looked the most skeptical about this revelation; her smile was a little too predatory.

"I don't like the look of her," whispered Ginny, noticing her staring at Dumbledore.

"Neither do I," admitted Harry quietly, "but it isn't Umbridge I'm worried about right now."

"You're worried about Anashi?" Neville quipped up, who was staring at the strange professor, still deep in supposed meditation, his wild hair swirling a little. "He doesn't look too bad to me. Strict, definitely, and probably crazy, but not evil."

"I don't mean evil," said Harry. "Just ... strange. I really don't know what."

The man seemed to notice that he was being scrutinized, and he opened one eye – his gray eye – and stared back at them. For some reason, something in the eye seemed familiar to Harry, though he didn't know why, or from where. Seeing no point in holding the gaze, he nodded once at Professor Anashi, who nodded back ever so slightly and closed his eye again.

Meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore had finished speaking.

"... so now, off to bed with you all, you have early wake-ups in the morning," Dumbledore finished. He clapped his hands twice. "Off you trot."

Every student in the hall stood up to leave, and it was quite lucky that it was suddenly loud, for in the noise and banter, Harry gasped in pain and clutched his scar. It felt similar to how it had felt in the summer before his fourth year – as though a white-hot poker had been applied to his forehead. The pain vanished as quickly as it had come, however, and he sighed with relief. He gratefully realized that nobody had seen or heard his painful yell.

The moment they had left the hall, Ginny immediately turned to him, her red hair, made wavy courtesy of Blaise Zabini, dancing a little around her. Harry made a mental note to ask her how she made it do that, like Professor Anashi's had just before

"Harry, what just happened?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "You just grabbed your scar and screamed. You're lucky nobody heard you!"

"Yeah, mate, what's wrong?" Neville asked, walking on Harry's other side as Harry led them through a tapestry that concealed a hidden passage to bring them to the fourth floor.

"I just felt something strange ..." Harry wasn't sure how to describe what he had just felt, but he now knew what it was, having felt it a few times at night during the summer. "It felt like fury. Like someone from far away was angry at something. I'm not sure how I know, but I know that somewhere, for some reason, Voldemort is pissed off, and I think I have a hunch as to why."

"But how do you know it's Voldemort?" Ginny asked – she was not afraid of Voldemort's name anymore. Neville, who had said the name only a handful of times in his life including once only an hour ago, shuddered a little.

Ignoring Neville, Harry answered, "Dumbledore told me last year that Voldemort and I are connected by this scar because Voldemort couldn't kill me as a baby. Somehow, the killing curse forged a connection between our minds. I can feel him when he's angry, or feeling murderous."

Turning a corner on the fourth floor, Neville piped up, "But why would You-Know-Who be angry?"

This Harry didn't know. He had been lying when he said he had a hunch.

"I've no idea, Neville. Maybe one of the Death Eaters failed him. It could be any reason. Voldemort isn't exactly a happy and cheerful person. I'd know, having faced him three times since I got here."

"You've faced him three times?"

"Well, twice, really, but the other time was kind of him, kind of not. It was that diary that was possessing Ginny shaped into human form, though not really human –"

"Please don't talk about that," interrupted Ginny, whose face was white. "I don't want to think about that ever again, if you don't mind."

Harry mentally smacked himself for his idiocy; of course she would have trouble talking about the Chamber of Secrets. She had, after all, been heavily involved in that entire ordeal. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I never thought to realize that the whole episode in the Chamber of Secrets might have affected you worse than me."

Ginny smiled a little.

"Probably not worse, but I still have really bad nightmares about it. I'd rather just not think about it while I'm awake."

"Good thinking," nodded Harry, "but we're off-topic. The memory of Tom Riddle wasn't really Voldemort, but he was in a sense, and he fought me like Voldemort would, by sicing a basilisk on me. He wasn't fully real, though; he was like a memory of some kind. Anyway, the year before that Voldemort was possessing Quirrell, and last year he brought me to a graveyard via Portkey, got his body back and forced me into a duel with him and thirty Death Eaters. The Dark Lord really doesn't like me."

No matter how much the apparent betrayal of Ron and Hermione hurt, he could never hate them, never dislike them. It was different when compared to others, like Snape or Malfoy for example, and a whole hierarchy off of Lord Voldemort, who had made his life miserable from the time he was an infant.

Ginny had grinned at Harry's words. "I've heard Voldemort doesn't like me, either, but I'm guessing the real deal doesn't even know who I am."

"Nope," said Harry, "you're safe for now. He'll know you as a Weasley, but that's it. It's only his younger memory self who knew you, and he's gone. I made sure of that."

They were coming up to the sixth floor now, and Neville slowed a little, deep in thought at what was being said.

"Something wrong, Nev?" Harry asked, noticing this.

"No, nothing ..."

But Harry had a hunch of what was wrong. There was nothing he could do about it, though; he had promised Dumbledore last year that he wouldn't tell anyone. Nobody knew except him, the Order, Dumbledore, and Neville's remaining family. His own parents, the victims of this, didn't even know – and they couldn't, because they were incurably insane and locked up in St. Mungo's Hospital to be cared for.

He wisely kept his silence, but said, "You'll be fine, Nev. We all will."

Neville gave a small grin but didn't reply. Ginny, who had watched the small exchange, kept her eyes averted as though in respect, not wanting to intrude. It seemed like something she didn't know that the boys did, and she would not change that.

They had finally come up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who smiled down at them all.

"Yes, it's good to see you three again," she said in a high-pitched voice. "Password?"

"_Mimbulus Mimbletonia,_" said Neville quietly but confidently, before Harry and Ginny could reply; though admittedly, they had not known.

"Correct!" said the Fat Lady approvingly, passing a small belch. "Pardon me, dears. I think I have a head cold. Go on, then." Her portrait swung open.

"How the bloody hell can a portrait have a head cold?" Harry asked as the three Gryffindors climbed through the hole. "That is one messed up –" He broke off, stopping in his tracks, and Neville and Ginny bumped into him as they climbed through.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked, but his question was answered the moment he stood up.

Every eye was on them. More specifically, every eye was on Harry, who was staring ahead, not meeting any eyes. The laughter and chatter in the room had been loud, but the second they had entered, the noise had silenced instantly. Every student in Gryffindor house was staring at Harry as though he were in another house altogether and intruding on theirs. Neville cleared his throat audibly, gaining no notice, and Ginny's eyes narrowed, though nobody looked at her, either.

"C'mon," Harry muttered, leading them across the room and toward the staircase. As he moved to walk upstairs, however, a voice pierced through the silence, echoing in Harry's ears:

"So how does it feel to know you're nothing but a fame-hungry, attention-seeking liar, Potter?"

He knew the voice only too well. Sure enough, when he turned around, visibly shaking with fury, Seamus Finnigan walked forward, holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He threw the newspaper at Harry's feet, but Harry did not flinch or step back, choosing to hold his ground. Everyone surrounding them seemed to be holding their breath; out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Fred and George had their wands pointed at Seamus from another end of the room. He felt a rush of gratitude for the two Weasley twins.

Still shaking uncontrollably, he bit out, "So which part don't you agree with, Seamus? The part where Dumbledore and I said that Voldemort's" – the room took a collective breath – "back in a body, or the part where I said it after winning that damn tournament?"

"Both!" snarled Seamus, spitting at Harry's feet onto the _Prophet_. "You're just an attention-seeking punk, and everyone knows it!"

"Funny, I don't see everyone here spitting at my feet and throwing copies of that dirt rag at me," said Harry coolly, indicating their audience all around the room though refusing to let his rage show; he refused to let Seamus have the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him. "Or is this about you being jealous that my name is always being plastered around the wizarding world and yours isn't? Do you honestly think for one second that I like being famous, Seamus? That because my parents died and I survived, I'm happier just because the world thinks I'm a hero?"

"You certainly haven't done anything to say otherwise," hissed Seamus. He took a step forward, fingering his wand. "You aren't even all that talented, Potter! You only won that tournament 'cause Diggory dropped dead in that maze and you came out with his body!"

The room gasped as a whole, and Harry's normally emerald green eyes turned into shining slits.

"So you think I killed Cedric, too, to get him out of the way?"

"I wouldn't rule it out!" shouted Seamus furiously.

"Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought!" roared Harry, finally unable to restrain his anger. Ginny, Fred and George all had their wands on him now, and Neville moved to stand beside Harry, whose wand was at his side, clenched in his fist. "I hate being famous, Seamus! I've hated it ever since I fully understood why I was famous! From the day Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, told me about Voldemort and how the monster killed my parents, and how I survived and suddenly I'm some big-shot hero who deserves Orders of Merlin and gold medals wherever I go! All of that, and in exchange my childhood is crap, I don't get parents and the two people who could be my guardians aren't allowed here because the Minister is too damned prejudicial to let them! I would trade all of this and more to get my parents back, Seamus, and the only reason you can't see that is because you're jealous of me!"

"Of course I'm jealous of you!" Seamus spat, now holding his wand as well. He seemed blinded by his own anger. "Everyone here is! You have bloody everything and more, and you just lap it up! Now you've got the old coot Dumbledore on your side, too! All it does is shows how much you love your own fame, Potter, and if you ask me, you don't deserve a speck of it!"

"I already know that!" Harry snapped out, his green eyes darker than ever. "It's my mother who got rid of Voldemort, not me, with her sacrifice when she died to save me!"

"SEE?" Seamus yelled to the room at large, feral glee written all over his face. "See? He admits it! He's nothing! He's just some kid who got a title and wore it like a crown all his life –"

"_STUPEFY!_"

Two red jets of light, yelled by two different but similar voices, hit Seamus square in the back while he was in mid-sentence, throwing him into the opposite wall face-first. He slid down the height of the wall and crumpled at its base, completely unconscious.

"That was the most despicable performance I've ever seen, my dear Gred," the twin on the right, who Harry assumed was George, commented.

"Yes, indeed, good Forge," said Fred, looking at Seamus' crumpled form in disgust. "Shame we can't prank him, but we'd have McGonagall on us faster than either of us could say 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes', and by George, we wouldn't want that!"

"Yes, by me, we would not like that at all!" said George humbly, before both twins laughed. They stopped soon and grew serious, muttering the awakening spells on Seamus, who shot up, yelling at them immediately.

"Oh, dear me, Fred!" said George sarcastically, ignoring Seamus' banter. "This one has quite the lip on him, doesn't he?" He paused. "Wait, I think I even heard something pertaining to our dear mother that time!"

Fred's eyes narrowed.

"Well, we can't have that," he said coldly, flicking his hair back. "Let me handle this, dear brother; we can ignore McGonagall's threats for a headcase like this." He jabbed his wand in Seamus' direction. "_Silencio!_"

Seamus continued yelling, but no sounds came out; he looked like a fish out of water. The whole common room laughed, and Fred struck a bow. "Thank you, thank you, my dear friends. You just received a special preview of what will happen to anyone we know of giving our friend Harry a hard time. You've been warned, lads and lasses. Now, we have business to attend to, brother mine," he said quickly, turning to George.

"Indeed we do, brother Ginny's," laughed George. They both turned to face Harry, who had watched the entire exchange with raised eyebrows. His temper had calmed down. "So sorry, my boy, but we won't let anybody bother our esteemed business partner without paying the price, and our dear friend Seamus just learned the price," George said humbly.

"Yes, he won't be bugging you again," nodded Fred. "Not in public, anyway."

"Thanks, mates," Harry said, grinning at both of them. "I actually feel better now." Next moment, without a word – whether this was because of the Silencing Charm or because he simply had nothing more to say – Seamus pushed past him, storming up the stairs and disappearing into the dormitory. Raising his eyebrows again, he added, "I should probably put defensive spells on my curtains tonight to make sure he doesn't attack me in my sleep. 'Night, Gred, Forge," he called, walking upstairs himself. Ginny and Neville, who had watched the two exchanges without comment, followed him up.

"'Night, Harry!" both twins yelled back.

At the top of the landing and out of the sight of everyone in the common room, which seemed to go back to normal now that all tension was gone, Ginny turned to face the two boys.

"Try not to kill Seamus overnight, all right?" she asked, and Harry nodded with mock reluctance. He honestly didn't care what Seamus thought anymore, so long as the git left him alone from now on. "Good," Ginny replied, before she scrunched up her face, and it suddenly looked as though Molly Weasley was looking at them. Harry saw Neville cower a little out of the corner of his eye. "Now behave yourselves, boys, and go to bed," said Ginny in a frighteningly accurate impression of her mother.

Harry laughed and nodded. "All right, Gin." He bent down to hug her good night, then turned around to face the stairs leading up to the fifth year dormitory. "Good night."

Ginny returned the call for good night, turned around and went off to her own dormitory. Harry and Neville walked up to their dormitory, so familiar to their previous four, and entered. It looked empty at first, but Harry could tell upon walking in that everyone for fifth year was present in the room. Seamus had his curtains drawn around his four-poster, while Dean Thomas was lying down, reading a book. Ron was also in bed, staring out the window.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, ignoring Seamus' bed completely. "Er, hi."

Dean looked up. "Hey, Harry. Er, good summer?" He was pointedly looking away from Seamus' bed as well, and Harry idly wondered if they had fought as well, though he was sure that in the time between Seamus coming up and him and Neville coming up, they wouldn't have had time to.

"Yeah, it was all right," Harry replied dismissively, not wanting to talk about any aspect of what he considered to be one of the worst summers he had ever had. Aside from that, discussing his summer would probably take all night, and he was too tired. "You?"

"It was pretty good," said Dean dismissively, going back to his book. "Went fishing a few times with one of my step-brothers, but other than that I just hung around the house, really."

Harry nodded distractedly and walked over to his bed, sinking down onto it and putting his head in his hands. Whatever flash of pain had hit him after the welcoming feast was still bothering him; his head was aching terribly right now. He ran his hands through his hair without really thinking about it, and to his great surprise felt it flat on his head. He was about to gasp when he remembered that it was Daphne Greengrass who had fixed it for him on the train. He sighed; for some reason, thinking about her made him happy, kept him calm, and somehow made the ache in his head dull down to a low throb.

Deciding he would worry about it in the morning, Harry closed the curtains and pulled on his pajama pants, leaving his shirt off because of the warmth. He then opened the curtains and began setting everything up around his bed. One thing he took care to set up was the model Hungarian Horntail, a miniature-sized version of the actual dragon he had faced off against during the Triwizard Tournament. Setting his wand on his bedside beside it, Harry was just hanging up an old Quidditch poster when he heard Ron speak up.

"No hello or anything, mate?"

Willing himself not to retort rudely, Harry sighed. "You didn't say anything, either," he said quietly, not looking down from his poster, which he was taking more care than necessary to hang up.

"Sorry," said Ron sheepishly, sounding as though he was only apologizing because he felt he had to, but Harry didn't care. "Where'd you disappear to on the train, anyhow? Hermione and I couldn't find you after the meeting."

_As if you even bothered looking past Hermione's features,_ Harry thought bitterly. Suppressing his thoughts, Harry said, "Ginny and I found one, but a group of Ravenclaws took it because there were more of them, so we went down near the end of the train. We were there for the rest of the trip, actually. Oh, and Malfoy says hello." He couldn't stop himself from sounding bitter, and found that he wasn't trying to.

Noticing this, Ron didn't comment about Malfoy. He stood up and stepped forward a bit. "You all right, mate? You've sounded a little angry since the trial."

Harry froze at this. _Of course I have!_ he snapped angrily in his head. _You and Hermione have been too busy snogging to notice before now, that's all!_

"I'm fine, Ron," was all Harry said.

Seeing that he could not straighten out the poster any more than he already had, he turned around, not looking at his friend, and sank into the bed. He put his glasses on the bedside table next to his wand and the Horntail. A thought suddenly formed in his mind and he picked up his wand and cast a Shield Charm around his bedside table, worried that Seamus might try something. He then stuck his wand next to his pillow and laid back against it, worn out from the long day.

"Harry, are you even going to look at me?" Ron asked, sounding a little worried now.

Losing his patience slightly, Harry looked at Ron, who was merely a shadowy figure to him without his glasses, and bit out, "Look, Ron, I'm tired and I want to get some sleep. I'm sure you can make due with not talking to me for a night after managing for the last week."

"Meaning?" Ron asked, his ears going red a little.

"Meaning nothing," said Harry wearily. "Forget I said anything, I don't want to fight with you right now. I've had enough fighting for one night. Good night, Ron."

Looking a little put out, Ron said, "All right, then ... good night." Having heard his farewell, Harry closed his curtains around his four-poster again, glad that he didn't have to deal with Ron at the moment.

Sighing, he pulled out his robe for the morning, to be ready to be up and out the door in case he had to deal with Ron or Seamus; he could tell that Neville was doing the same thing. As he shook the robe out, a small item fell out of one of the pockets.

"Huh?" he blurted out, picking it up. It looked almost like a miniature television box, but he knew that those were useless at Hogwarts. He looked through the pockets to see if there were any clues as to what this thing was, and eventually found a letter. Curious as to how any of these got into his pockets, having not put them in himself, Harry opened the letter and begun to read:

_Harry,_

_This is a two-way mirror. I've charmed it so that it responds to another set of two-way mirrors as well, which Ginny and Blaise have. Yours was shrunk so that it would fit in your pocket, so just unshrink it when you take it out. Whenever you want to talk to one or more of us, just call one of our names – both first name and surname – into the mirror. If we have the other one on us, it will warm up, we will feel it and we will respond. Our respective faces will appear in each others' mirrors._

_Since you and Ginny are in Gryffindor, and Blaise and I are in Slytherin, it will be much easier to keep contact outside of classes. Which reminds me: we may not be able to talk much in our lessons. The other Slytherins are just as forgiving as Draco Malfoy about Slytherins talking to any other house, especially Gryffindors, and while Blaise and I enjoy talking to you two, we don't need the extra strain. Think of it as a "secret friendship."_

_If you're wondering how I got this in your pocket, I wrote it on the train and slipped both in your pocket on the carriage without you noticing. You were lost in thought at the time. Hope to talk to you soon, Harry!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Daphne_

_P.S. Watch out for Malfoy, he's going to be after you more than ever this year, and since this is OWL year, I doubt you need that._

"Wow," Harry whispered, finishing the letter and putting it aside. He picked up the small cube which he now knew to be a mirror, and pointed his wand at it. "_Engorgio!_" It immediately grew, stopping at about a foot long and a foot wide. Quickly casting a Silencing Charm on the curtains – he wasn't skilled with this charm, so he wasn't sure how silent it would be on the outside – he picked up the mirror and whispered, "Ginny Weasley."

About twenty seconds passed before the mirror glowed a little, and Ginny's face appeared in it. "Hi, Harry," she whispered.

"Hi," Harry whispered back. "This is pretty neat, eh?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, eyes flashing mischeviously. "Now I can get you up in the middle of the night and you can't do a thing about it."

"Oy!" he choked out, before he realized what that meant and grinned as well. "Two can play at that game, Miss Weasley."

Ginny's eyes widened a little. "You wouldn't dare, Mr. Potter ... would you?"

"Time will tell, Ginevra, time will tell," Harry responded cheekily, and chuckled as Ginny's face and ears turned red. Deciding that he wanted to live through the night – and not trusting the fact that Ginny could not throw spells at him through the mirror – Harry added, "I'm gonna turn in. We can talk to Daphne and Blaise tomorrow. Good night, Ginny."

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny yawned. "'Night, Harry."

The mirror stopped glowing, and the faces in their reflective surfaces disappeared.

* * *

Author's Note: Two chapters down. It's lucky that I had a fair bit of time this week to work on it. With work slowing down a little before the Christmas rush in a few weeks, I have a lot of time to write. There may even be an update sometime next week. 'Til then, lads and lasses.


	3. Chapter 3: A Long Haul

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Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On the rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Side Note: Slight change in review. See below.

Author's Note 2: So sorry about the long period of waiting. My laptop is finally fixed, so updates will come regularly again. I can only promise a span of two weeks, due to how hectic my schedule is.

Full Summary: The summer following the Triwizard Tournament has been hard for Harry. To make matters worse, his two best friends have finally gotten together and begun to unknowingly edge him out. Feeling more abandoned than ever, he is surprised to find company in three unexpected people, one of whom seems to share and understand his pain, as his life twists and turns further...

Disclaimer: Mme. Joanne Rowling owns the series as a whole, and I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review or feedback accusing me of plagiarism will be automatically deleted. You will be given credit where credit is due, rest assured.

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**  
Chapter 3: A Long Haul  
**

Harry suspected at the beginning of the next morning that nothing about the day was going to go right. He felt that he was not wrong when he woke up to find Seamus rushing out of the room and Dean looking uncomfortable. Ron was already gone as well, presumably to go see Hermione before classes started. Sighing, he put on his glasses and quickly got changed, avoiding everyone's eyes. He wasn't in any mood to deal with his peers right now, especially Seamus and Ron, who were both annoying him in their own way, to his aggravation.

As though he could read Harry's mind, Neville piped up, "Yeah, that Ron has changed a bit, hasn't he?"

Harry couldn't stop himself from nodding, but he pushed it out of his head; he didn't want to think about Ron and Hermione right now.

"You go on downstairs, Neville. I'll be down in a minute."

Neville nodded and left, seeing that Harry needed a minute. He was all too aware of how Harry felt about his old friends right now; or, rather, how he thought he felt. Neville wasn't stupid: he could see plainly that it was a conflict in Harry's mind that would not end soon, and he was going to respect his friend's wishes and give him his privacy; it was the least he could do for Harry.

As soon as Neville had left, Harry picked up the two-way mirror and spoke into it: "Ginny Weasley."

The mirror began to shine again, as it had the night before, and Ginny's face appeared in it again; she looked bleary, her hair rather messy.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked with a yawn. "I'm just getting ready to go down for breakfast."

"It's nothing," Harry assured her, "I just wanted to make sure the mirror worked at all times." He dropped his voice, the traces of paranoia he had inherited from the false Mad-Eye Moody rising up within him. "Keep it with you all the time, all right?"

"They're a banned set of items in Hogwarts, Harry," Ginny told him. "Sirius mentioned them once. I think he's used stuff like this before. He said they're not allowed to be used."

"I know that, but you don't have to make it obvious," said Harry, who wanted to make sure that he had a communication link with his friends this year, just in case. He didn't know when he had become so paranoid. "Just re-shrink it and keep it in your pocket, Daphne's letter said it would warm up if one of us tries to contact the other."

"All right," Ginny said in agreement. "I'll see you downstairs."

Ending the mirror-call, which was what he had decided to call it, Harry quickly got changed and headed downstairs.

He walked down to the common room, where a few fellow students were seated all over, talking amongst themselves. Fred and George were setting up some kind of message on the notice board, and Ginny and Neville were sitting in the armchairs by the fireplace, waiting patiently for him. Noticing Harry coming down the stairs, she smiled and walked over to Harry, just as Fred and George finished their bulletin and left out the portrait hole, with Neville following her.

"Seamus rushed out of the room almost like lightning," she said, rolling her eyes. "He must be really, really jealous of you, Harry." This didn't concern Harry at all, so he shrugged his shoulders and didn't reply. "Well, at any rate, Ron ran down to breakfast about ten minutes ago as well, if you're wondering where he is."

She gave him a knowing look, and Harry understood that she didn't want Neville to be bothered about it. He personally agreed fully. He had no problems with Neville, but he really wasn't close enough to his clumsy friend to tell him everything that was bothering him. Just the unimportant stuff, not pertaining to Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, would do for now.

Forcing a smile, Harry said, "Let's go down to breakfast."

The Great Hall was packed upon their arrival, and Harry was grateful that he wasn't being stared at – well, not by too many people, anyway – as he walked over to the Gryffindor table. He passed right by Ron and Hermione, who didn't even look up or notice him pass by, and headed right over to where Fred and George were sitting with Lee Jordan, discussing something together in undertones.

"Hey, mates," said Harry quietly, not wanting to draw attention and start another row with Seamus or anyone else. "Mind if we join you?"

The twins and their friend looked up, surprised.

"Aren't you usually with Ron and Hermione during meals and, well, everywhere else?" Lee asked.

Harry grimaced a little, and it was all Lee needed to see, apparently, for he shuffled over to make room.

"Well, I can't refuse the kid who's both a friend, the Boy Who Lived, the guy who warned everyone about You-Know-Who coming back, and Fred and George's private investor all in one go," said Lee, grinning up at Harry. "Go on and sit down, Harry. You too, Ginny, Neville."

"We're discussing business with the joke shop," Fred said with a grin, as the trio sat down, "so you may as well listen, anyway, being our business partner and all."

"Business partner?" Ginny asked, frowning at Harry. "What's he talking about, Harry?"

"You didn't tell anyone?" George asked Harry, sounding a little incredulous. Harry gave him a look, which George seemed to understand the meaning of, for he added, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing. The less people who know, the less chance Mum has of finding out, and if she finds out before we're ready to take off, we might as well kiss this idea good-bye."

"Find out about what?" Ginny snapped, sounding annoyed now. By now, Neville was leaning in as well, curious as to what the five were talking about.

"Harry gave us the money to start out business with pranks and gag products," Fred said proudly, beaming at Harry. "His Triwizard winnings. One thousand Galleons. Gave it to us at King's Cross back in June, when we had just pulled into the station."

"You did _what_?" Ginny blurted out. "You gave up one thousand Galleons for some prank jokes and gags, Harry?"

"Keep your voice down!" whispered Harry irritably, not wanting others to hear about this, "and of course I did, I don't need the money and this is Fred and George's dream idea. I've got more than enough money without those winnings, far as I'm concerned. 'Sides, your twin brothers have always been there for me when I've needed them; I'd be a pretty bad friend to not do it."

"We tried to refuse him, when he gave us the money on the train," George said seriously, his face blank, though they could see the amusement in his eyes. "He threatened to hex us if we didn't take it. He was quite adamant about it."

"Yes, the chap seemed quite anxious to be rid of that heaping sack of gold," Fred added, no trace of a smile whatsoever. "Wouldn't take no for an answer, that one. We thought he was going to beg us to take it, but we decided to spare him and let him part with it. Wouldn't want to see one of our best mates on his knees groveling to us."

"Though it would be funny to see the Boy Who Lived doing just that," piped up George with a grin, and both twins started laughing.

"Oh, shut up," snapped Harry, though he too was grinning.

As he looked away, he saw their new professor, Aiyasis Anashi, walking through the door alongside the staff table with his cane and taking a seat for breakfast. He caught Harry's eye and nodded curtly at him, his gray eye seeming to pierce Harry's own eyes with its strong glare. His brown eye seemed unable to see. Harry looked away, a little disturbed by the sight. It was as though there were two people staring at him through one set of eyes.

He quickly forced the little exchange out of his mind, helping himself to some bacon. Turning to Neville, he said, "So which classes do you think we'll have today, Neville?"

Neville smiled.

"I'm willing to bet that Potions and Divination will be among the first ones, just to spite us."

Harry smirked at the thought, ducking his head. It was common knowledge that Harry and Professor Snape hated each other, and had since Harry's very first Potions class, four years ago now. Snape had been cruel to Harry from the moment he had laid eyes on the boy, and Harry had hated him right back, his resentment for the man growing with each year. He had learned that his father and Snape had been enemies in their school days, just as Snape had hated Sirius, Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed Harry and his parents and sold them out to Lord Voldemort. That hatred had carried on from father to son, it had seemed, and Harry was quite certain he would never like the seemingly unlikeable Potions master. As for Neville, he was simply so terrified of Professor Snape that he performed poorly in the class out of fear, and Snape would insult and degrade Neville just because of that.

Then there was Divination, the most irritating subject taught in Hogwarts that Harry knew of. With Potions, the subject was fine, as Snape and the Slytherins were the only problem; in Divination, the problem was both teacher and subject. Harry found that he simply could not figure out how he was supposed to perform well in the lessons when he had no idea how to, and Professor Sybill Trelawney made that ten times harder by predicting the untimely death of Harry, in different and exaggerated ways, almost every single lesson. If he could have, Harry would have dropped the class almost instantly, but it was too late now, and Harry was glad that he would finally be done with Divination after the Ordinary Wizarding Levels were over. He never wanted to see Professor Trelawney ever again after this year.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he said, "Well, we can at least hope that we don't have Binns first. That would be terrible, but it would at least give me reason to sleep in on Monday mornings."

"Too true, mate," George said sympathetically. "We were glad to be done with that class after fifth year. Such a snooze-fest with that old ghost teaching us, that was."

"Dropping Muggle Studies was a pretty happy time for me," admitted Lee Jordan, a pleasant mist covering his eyes.

"Why you even took that class was beyond me," laughed Fred. "Aren't you half-Muggle yourself?"

"Well, yeah, but it would have been interesting to see the Muggle ways from the wizard point of view, don't you think?" Lee said defensively.

This reminded Harry painfully of Hermione's answer when asked why she had studied Muggle Studies in third year.

"Besides," said Lee, "I got an Outstanding on the OWL. Easiest exam I ever took. Still can't believe most of the questions on that exam were about Muggle televisions and computers and such. There's nothing difficult about those things."

Fred and George had bewildered looks.

"You went right over our heads there, mate," Fred said, brushing over his head with his hand to make his point.

"What's a computor?" both twins said together.

Harry laughed, as did Lee.

"Computer," Lee emphasized, "and it's a – well, never mind. Harry or Hermione can explain it to you, I think."

Both twins looked at Harry immediately, who threw up his hands and said, "Hey, I barely remember myself. The Dursleys didn't exactly give me my own computer, remember? All I had was Hedwig and the clothes on my back, mates."

"He's got a point there," Ginny said quietly, looking a little downcast at the subject. She had not quite gotten over the issue of Harry's upbringing when Harry had told her about it, though Harry had assured her that it wasn't that big of a deal. He might have been neglected by the Dursleys, but he had never been physically abused (except for Dudley, who had considered Harry a personal punching bag) by his aunt and uncle, and so he didn't really care. He didn't like the Dursleys and they didn't like him; that was that, no questions asked. _Ironically, I wasn't allowed to ask questions anyway_, he thought with amusement.

"Again, it's nothing to worry about," Harry told her calmly. "Trust me, I might not like them all the time – heck, I ran away from them two years ago – but they're my family, and I have to respect that. Just not my aunt Marge, though, I'll always hate her. Voldemort can have her."

He said this sarcastically and with a bit of a laugh, but everyone around him seemed to draw back a little, as though intimidated at the idea of Harry willingly giving over his aunt to Voldemort. Quickly looking for a change of subject, Harry asked, "So, who's the team captain this year, mates?"

"Angelina," said Fred immediately, grasping at the change of subject instantly. "She's the oldest person on the team right now, since Oliver left year before last. She's having a full tryout sometime this week, I think. On Friday, maybe?"

Harry nodded. He liked Angelina, who was a dedicated Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He wondered who was going to be the new Keeper for their team, as Oliver Wood had been the original Keeper and had graduated at the end of Harry's third year.

As though he had read Harry's mind, Fred added, "We're not just looking for a new Keeper. We might need a new Chaser as well. Katie injured herself over the summer, and she might not be able to fly for a while. Until we know for sure, though, we're just looking for a backup Chaser. Angelina and Alicia are still going to be Chasers, we're still going to be Beaters, and we hope to hell you'll still be Seeker, so it won't be too bad."

"We're the team that never falls apart," George said with a grin. "Aside from Wood, all of us have been on the team since you got to Hogwarts, Harry. But seriously, don't you dare leave the team until you graduate, or at least until after we leave. You're the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen since Charlie, and you're probably even better than he was now."

Harry blushed, ducking his head. "I can't be that good."

"Oh, you are," Ginny said with a grin, seeing Harry's embarrassment. "He was even telling me last summer when he was here. He was going on and on about how the great Harry Potter was a terrific Seeker, and so much better than he was."

His face's color now resembling the ketchup on the table, Harry said in a feeble voice, "Er, thanks, I guess."

"Aw, look at that, George," Fred said, catching on to Ginny's idea, "our little Harrykins is blushing."

"If your face gets any redder, Harry, can we dip our hashbrowns into it?" George smirked.

"All right, all right, enough!" Neville said, torn between annoyance and amusement. "Leave Harry alone. If his face gets any redder, we won't be able to see his nose and eyes." The group as a whole laughed at this, and Harry, his face now resembling the Weasleys' hair, ducked his head.

"Ah, you're right, Longbottom, ol' chap," Lee said, grinning from ear to ear. He looked away and added, "Oi, here comes McGonagall. About time. Dunno about you lot, but I want to know where I'm going to be on Monday mornings, in case I ever want to sleep in."

Professor McGonagall soon reached them, handing each of them their schedules, but before she continued on she looked at Lee and said, "Detention, Mr. Jordan. Next Monday morning. My office. There will be no sleeping in, or conspiring to do so." She continued on, leaving Lee to gape at her like a fish out of water.

Fred and George burst out laughing, while Ginny reached over and closed Lee's mouth for him, whispering, "Flies, Lee, flies."

"You just got pranked by McGonagall, mate!" George managed to choke out, doubled over in his seat. "Now that is priceless!" And sure enough, when they looked over to where Professor McGonagall was standing, she had a bit of a smile on her face, her eyes showing faint signs of amusement.

"Well, looks like you were right, Neville," said Harry grumpily, who was looking over his schedule at the Monday column, ignoring the exchange about Professor McGonagall. "We have Snape today, after Flitwick's class. No Trelawney, though, we have her on Wednesday afternoon, and Binns tomorrow morning. Blimey, I hate having that class in the morning."

"Oh, well. At least we have a free period after lunch," Neville said in what he hoped was a cheerful voice. "We have that Anashi guy today, too. Last lesson of the day."

"Let's hope he's better than some of our other Defense professors have been," Harry said bitterly, remembering how every one of his professors in that class had been like. With the exception of Remus Lupin, all of them had tried to do him in at least once in their own ways; Quirrell had tried to kill him, the fake Moody had tried to have him killed by sending him to Voldemort, and Gilderoy Lockhart had tried to wipe his memory clean. All three had met their own end in one way or another.

"The fake Moody was pretty good, though," Fred said quietly, having finished laughing at his friend. "He at least knew what he was talking about, like Remus did."

"Quirrell and Lockhart were idiots, though," George remarked. "Quirrell was afraid of his own damn shadow, and Lockhart was too busy talking about himself to actually teach us anything."

"Quirrell wasn't really a paranoid fool," commented Harry, "he was just acting like one because he had Voldemort sticking out of his head underneath that turban. He showed me that when I went after the Philosopher's Stone at the end of my first year, after meeting him at the end of the line, where the Mirror of Erised was."

"He was still feigning fear too much to teach us much," Fred said persistently. "He taught us the Bat-Bogey Hex, and that's about it. And we still regret that, because Ginny's the only one we know who bothered to master it enough to use it on anyone who annoys her."

Ginny grinned, twirling her wand around in her fingers over the table, and Fred and George both gulped simultaneously and cowered a little in their seats. It was quite a fact that the Weasley brothers who were still in England were all terrified of their little sister and her Bat-Bogey Hex.

"We should probably head to class, Neville, Charms is on the fourth floor," said Harry, standing up and stretching a little. "We'll see you later, guys."

"Hang on, I'm coming," said Ginny, standing as well, "I've got Muggle Studies, and that's upstairs too."

As they walked towards the door to the Entrance Hall, Harry caught Daphne's eye. She smiled at him, holding up the miniature mirror and pointing at it, and Harry nodded, understanding the silent message. He noticed that Ginny had missed it.

Elbowing her lightly, he whispered, "Keep your mirror handy. Daphne wants us to talk to her later on." Ginny nodded to show she understood.

As they walked to the door, Harry heard a voice shout out, "Wait up, mate!" Forcing himself to not groan out loud, he waited at the doors for Ron and Hermione to catch up to him, though he did not stop walking. Ginny and Neville did not move aside for Harry's two friends, though it was clear that Ginny was not happy that they were present. Neville, not knowing the fully story between Harry, Ron and Hermione from the summer, merely said, "I'll see you in Charms, mate," and trotted off.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, staring at Harry as they walked, her and Ron holding hands. "You didn't sit with us this morning or last night, and you didn't save us a seat on the train."

Harry merely grunted, keeping his eyes forward. He normally found that thinking about something that made him happy was the best course of action for keeping his patience; somehow, Daphne seemed to float into his mind, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch, though he did not smile. He didn't want to give his friends the satisfaction of seeing that something made him happy: he was far too bitter to them at the moment thanks to their neglect of him over the summer.

"Harry?" Hermione asked again.

"You mad at us, mate?" said Ron, looking confused as to why their friend wasn't answering them.

Surprisingly, though Harry had managed to keep calm, Ginny lost her temper first.

"You two are clueless!" she snapped, spinning around to face them. "You don't even realize it, either!" Turning to give Harry a quick hug – which Harry returned, much to Ron's shock – and a swift kiss on the cheek, she said, "I'll see you at lunch, Harry," and stalked off to her lesson alone, her nose in the air.

"What the hell was that about?" Ron blurted out, looking more confused than ever, though there were signs of red in his ears – never a good sign with Ron Weasley.

Not wanting to start a fight, though restraining his patience with great difficulty now, Harry did not reply. He merely watched Ginny go, wishing more than anything that she had stayed with them. Neville didn't know the full story, but she did, and Ginny was probably the only one right now who could keep him calm in Hermione and Ron's company.

"I'm sure she's fine," Hermione said assuringly, giving Ron's hand a small squeeze, "she's probably just nervous about the coming year, what with You-Know-Who back and nobody believing it."

Harry was gritting his teeth now. Desperate as he was to keep his temper in check at his friends' collective ignorance, however, he merely said, "I know why she's angry, and you're right, she'll be just fine and peachy. Come on, we're going to be late for Charms if we stay here."

Ron stared blankly at him.

"Since when do you care about being late for class?" Hermione asked in awe. "I mean, I'm usually the one getting you two to hurry up and get there on time."

"Since we have OWLs this year and I want to do well," Harry answered without looking at her. "Now come on, let's get there before Flitwick decides to put us in detention."

He continued to walk towards the Charms corridor, and Ron and Hermione followed, neither able to understand what had caused Harry's sudden change in attitude, but neither wanting to second-guess it in case he lost his temper with them; they knew exactly how tempermental their best friend could sometimes be, especially under pressure.

* * *

Professor Flitwick's Charms lessons were usually interesting, though this particular lesson had made Harry want to bang his head against the table in front of him several times. The aged professor had spent nearly half the lesson lecturing the class on the importance of the OWLs, and had spent the rest of the lesson re-teaching the class levitation, something they had learned almost immediately in their first year.

"That had to be the most boring lesson Flitwick has ever taught," Harry said with a groan when he left with Neville, whom he had sat with during the lesson to avoid further questioning from his two other friends, two hours later. "Blimey, I hope Snape doesn't lecture us about the same thing. My head might fall off from boredom."

"Careful with that, Harry, you won't be as famous if you die," Neville said with a grin; he had become unusually confident while with Harry, though his confidence was lacking when around others.

"Eh, the hell with my fame. Merlin knows I don't need or want it."

Neville nodded, having heard all of this the previous night.

They walked down to Potions quickly, neither wanting to lose house points from Snape on their first day back. It was something that would inevitably happen, but it was still nice to know that they could try to prevent it. As they entered the dungeons, Harry saw Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass walking together. He caught their eyes: Zabini nodded to him while Daphne smiled. He smiled back, not quite ready to let Neville know he was friends with Slytherins. He didn't know Neville well enough to know how he would react, and if he was anything like Ron, he would likely go ballistic.

Soon they were in the corridor leading into the Potions room, where some of the other students were waiting, Malfoy amongst them. He looked over at Harry and grinned maliciously.

"So first the Weasley girl and now Longbottom?" he said with a sneer etched into his face as though from stone. He disregarded Harry's narrowed eyes and Neville's clenched fists. "It's incredible how you can find such dismal company, Potter. How can you sleep at night knowing that your only friends are all blood traitors?"

"I take sleeping potions," Harry said coolly. A few people laughed, Zabini and Daphne amongst them; the other Slytherins flashed glares at them. "What the hell do you want me to say, Malfoy? That I'm ashamed of myself for siding with people who aren't arrogant bigots?"

"Watch what you say, Potter!" Malfoy said dangerously.

"Or what?" Harry stood his ground, his hand in his pocket, clenched around his wand. "How many times before you finally get the fact that you can't scare me, or intimidate me, or even bully me, Malfoy? I grew up with all of that. I don't fear it."

"Aw, did poor little Potter get bullied by his nasty Muggle relatives?" Pansy Parkinson cooed in a cruel, sardonic tone, and the Slytherins laughed maliciously. "No one cares about your supposed situation with your relatives, Potter. Nobody pities you anymore. Get over it."

"That's fine with me," shrugged Harry. "I don't want or need pity, especially not from the likes of you."

Any further comments towards him were cut off as the door to the classroom opened and Professor Snape walked out, his usual sneer on his face.

"Getting along, are you?" he asked the students at large coldly. When none of them answered, he raised his eyebrows and said, "Since I have a feeling I know exactly what transpired while you were waiting, ten points from Gryffindor." There was a splutter of indignation from all of the Gryffindors present at these words, and Snape's sneering smirk grew as he said, "Five more points for your ridiculous whining. Now, into the classroom before I make it thirty points even."

The Slytherins smiled triumphantly as they entered the classroom. As Harry passed by, he locked eyes with Snape. It was impossible to tell whose gaze held more loathing.

"Potter," Snape greeted with a nod, his tone sarcastic.

Bottling his fury, Harry nodded back.

"Professor," he answered, keeping the sarcasm out of his tone lest he receive detention.

Avoiding any further confronting, he walked across the room and taking a seat next to Neville. To his relief, Ron and Hermione were further down the classroom; he would be safe from them for another lesson. His eyes immediately focused on the front of the room as Professor Snape took his place in front of the class, his shadow leering over everyone present.

"Before we begin," Snape began coolly, "you will notice that we have a visitor in our class today."

He waved his hand carelessly at the back of the room, and everyone's heads turned to see Dolores Umbridge sitting on a stool in the back corner, a clipboard in her hand. They turned back to face Snape, who continued, "You will be expected to treat her with the same respect you would treat me with, or face the consequences. You will not be warned twice."

He waved his wand at the blackboard, where instructions appeared.

"This is your assignment for this lesson," he said coldly. "You have an hour and a half to complete it, starting now. Instructions are all on the board. Begin."

As the class scrambled to begin the potion, Malfoy passed by Harry, hissing, "You'll never be better than me, Potter. Get used to the idea. I'll always be one step ahead of you."

"Snape won't always be around to save your skin, Malfoy," Harry hissed back, not looking at the arrogant pure-blood who seemed bent on bringing an uproar out of him. He would not allow that to happen; he'd be damned if he let Snape try to ruin his life this year because of this pompous idiot.

"I don't need him to," sneered Malfoy. "I'm more than capable of handling you myself."

"If I recall, _Draco_," Harry said, emphasizing Malfoy's first name sardonically, "the last time you challenged me to a wizard's duel, you didn't even show up; you sent Filch after me. Then, the last time you confronted me, I scared you off. Now, do you _really_ think the odds are in your favor, Malfoy?" He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think so, either. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a potion to complete, and you're not going to ruin this for me this year."

Malfoy merely sneered at Harry before walking back to his own table to work with Theodore Nott, another Slytherin, another arrogant pure-blooded son of a Death Eater. Harry took the remaining ingredient he needed and walked back over to his cauldron, where Neville was waiting. He prayed that Neville wouldn't botch things up this time.

Sighing, Harry began his work on the Draught of Peace, wishing he could just leave and go back to his dorm. His head was still aching for some reason, and it wasn't helping his concentration. Nevertheless, he focused all of his effort on getting his potion just right so that Snape would have no good reason to fail him. He'd likely fail Harry just because it was Harry, but he didn't care. He got his own personal satisfaction out of knowing that he could do the work, even if he wasn't graded fairly for it.

"_Hem, hem._"

He had been adding powdered moonstone when he heard the noise, which he did not recognize. He looked up briefly, then, shrugging, he went back to his work. _Two clockwise stirs, one counter-clockwise stir ..._

"_Hem, hem._" The noise was back.

Harry looked up again, irritated at the distraction. He was going to lose track of what to add or stir next if that noise didn't stop, and he needed to get the potion just right if he didn't want to fail the lesson – again. Slowly, he put in the exact amount of powdered moonstone, just as the instructions indicated –

"_Hem, hem!_"

He finally turned around, about to yell at whoever was behind him for bothering him with that infernal noise, when he realized that it was Madam Umbridge, who was standing there staring at him, an eerie smile on her toad-like face. She seemed to be scrutinizing him, and he didn't like it one bit, though he was unsure of whether or not he had a reason to not trust her. Probably so, as she had voted against him at the trial.

"Er, can I help you?" Harry asked politely but quietly, unsure of what the 'High Inquisitor', whatever that meant, wanted with him.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, you can," she said in a sickly sweet voice, completely contradicting what Harry had thought would be a croak from the most toad-like person he had ever seen. "I was wondering if I could, perhaps, ask you a few questions pertaining to your classes?" Her sickly smile widened, stretching almost from ear to ear.

"Er," Harry mumbled, not completely sure how to say no, "could it wait for a few minutes, ma'am? I have one last step to perform in the potion before letting it simmer for seven minutes, and then I'll be able to speak freely with you."

He made sure to choose his words carefully, not wanting a reason for the woman before him to hate him unnecessarily, and Dolores Umbridge seemed to see this.

"Of course, of course," said Umbridge in her high-pitched voice. "Take your time, dear. I can wait."

As Harry finished the last step before letting the potion simmer for seven minutes, he told Neville to watch the potion and then turned back towards Umbridge, whose smile seemed almost kind now. _What is this woman playing at?_ Harry wondered to himself. _She's definitely loyal to Fudge, and Fudge wants my name tarnished. So why is she acting nice? _He mentally berrated himself. _Of course ... she's acting._

"Now, Mr. Potter, I understand that you have been coming to Hogwarts since nineteen ninety-one, when you were eleven years old?" Dolores Umbridge asked, looking down at the clipboard as though for emphasis.

"Yes," Harry replied, wondering how this wasn't common knowledge to her.

"You have since completed four years of magical education?" Umbridge asked, though it was more of a statement.

"Yes ..."

"You have discrepancies with some of your professors?"

This question caught Harry off-guard, though he figured he should have expected it.

"With one professor, yes, but not with the others, especially not certain ones, such as my head of house and the headmaster," he replied carefully, choosing his words with caution. He wouldn't put it past this woman, who he had limited knowledge of on the whole outside of knowing that she worked for the Minister, to pull a fast one and twist his words; Rita Skeeter had done just that only the previous year.

"Professor Snape, I imagine, would be the discrepancy," Umbridge pointed out – again, it was a statement and not a question.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Why is it that you and Professor Snape do not get along, Mr. Potter?" asked Madam Umbridge, her highly girlish voice quickly grating on Harry's nerves, though he restrained the urge to let himself lose his patience. One false move, and the Minister would have the perfect reason to have him expelled, something that he would never let happen ...

"He's hated me ever since he first laid eyes on me," Harry said calmly, deciding on the truth. "He and my father were enemies in their own schooldays, and his hatred of my father carried on to me. I only hate him because he hates me."

This was true: he wouldn't have a problem with Severus Snape if the man had never had a problem with him, but after everything Snape had put him through in the last four years, Harry could not ever feel anything but loathing towards the hateful head of Slytherin house. But he was not about to let this woman use this against him.

"I see, I see ..." Umbridge made a note on her clipboard, and then continued. "Have you any discrepencies with the students of Hogwarts, Mr. Potter?"

Harry had to stiffle his own laugh, which drew Neville's attention, though he focused on watching the potion simmer, a process that was four minutes in now.

"Only with every Slythe –"

He stopped himself suddenly. A year ago – heck, two days ago – he would have said that he disliked every single Slytherin in Hogwarts, but he had to remind himself that things were different now, that he was friends with two students from Slytherin. Daphne and Zabini floated into his mind as he reworded his answer in mid-sentence.

"With most of the Slytherin house," he replied, "as they all seem to hate me for reasons I'll never understand."

If Dolores Umbridge noticed his slip-up, she did not comment. Instead, she made another note into her clipboard, humming under her breath, and finished by saying, "Very well, Mr. Potter, that is all I need to know. Thank you for your time, my dear."

Harry flinched a bit, but stiffly replied, "Thank you, Madam Umbridge," before turning back to his potion, which had a minute left before it would finish simmering for the seven minute countdown. As he got ready to start the final instruction for the potion, the looming shadow of Professor Snape hung over the two teenagers and their potion.

"So, Potter, Longbottom," he sneered, "let me see your obviously incorrect potion and how far along it – "

He broke off, seeing the potion at exactly how it was supposed to be at that point, before pointing a finger at Harry, who raised an eyebrow at the gesture; Severus Snape was not a man who easily lost his composure, and Harry was baffled at how he had done so right now.

"I cannot find a flaw to this potion, Potter!" he spluttered, and Harry had just given an inward cheer when Snape barked out, "You and Longbottom obviously cheated!"

"What? We didn't – "

"SILENCE!" Snape yelled, attracting the attention of everyone in the Potions laboratory, including Draco Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge. Neville's indignant splutter fell flat. "Cheating with Potions is a serious offense, Potter, and can lead to serious accidents! I'll have you expelled for this, you hear me, boy?"

"You'll do no such thing, Professor Snape!" barked a voice from the doorway.

Everyone turned where they sat and stood to see Professor Anashi leaning against the door frame, his arms folded, his gray eye focused on Snape. As always, his brown eye seemed to be unfocused, unblinking, and for the umpteenth time Harry wondered exactly what was going on in Aiyasis Anashi's mind and head.

"I don't remember issuing an invitation for you to join my class, Anashi," Snape hissed angrily, his nemesis' son forgotten momentarily as he turned to face Professor Anashi fully.

"I don't remember asking for an invitation, either," Anashi said simply, standing up straight and walking into the room, his arms still folded. His long, elbow-length brown hair seemed to float a little behind him. For reasons nobody seemed sure of, his cane was absent. "I'm only here because I needed a quick word with young Mr. Potter, and I'm curious as to why you're jumping to the conclusion that he cheated his way to a perfect potion, Severus."

"My reasons for suspecting false brewing are none of your concern –"

"Of course not," snapped Professor Anashi, his cane suddenly appearing in his hand as he leaned down a little. "But they are Headmaster Dumbledore's concern, Snape, and you'd better know that I'll be here to make sure there's fair judgment passed in any and all classrooms."

"Are you threatening me, Anashi?" Snape spat.

"Consider it a warning," Anashi said indifferently, turning around on the spot and walking towards the door. As he stepped out of the classroom, he turned and said, adressing Harry, "Come see me after your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Potter, and we will speak then." As soon as Harry nodded, he turned around without another word and disappeared around the corner.

Snape spun around to face Harry, clearly livid.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor for your cheek!" he snapped, before turning on the spot and walking up to the front of the room.

* * *

"My cheek?" Harry blurted out twenty minutes later as the class filed out of the room for lunch, everyone rushing from the room the moment they had given their samples to Snape. "I didn't even say anything! Why can't Dumbledore just ban him from taking points? It's a wonder we win the house cup every year with that git taking points left and right from everyone in Gryffindor!"

"I know, mate," Neville said a bit irritably, having listened to Snape berate him yet again as they had handed him the samples to their potion (though not before Harry had put an Impervius charm on their samples, in case Snape tried to 'accidentaly' destroy them). "He's bang out of order."

Harry merely nodded, wanting to eat quickly so he could get to use the two-way mirror, but as Harry and Neville crossed into the Entrance Hall and headed towards the Great Hall, a voice stopped him.

"Harry, wait up!"

Harry, who had had it with both the people who were making snide remarks towards him, and Ron and Hermione coming up to him and asking him what was wrong, spun around and was just about to make a rude comment when he saw that the person who had spoken belonged to neither group.

"Er, hi, Cho."

Cho Chang caught up to him, smiling at him, though just like in the Great Hall the previous night, he did not feel the sensation in his stomach that he had always felt when he saw her ever since third year, when he had met her. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't be friendly towards her.

Taking the hint that this conversation was intended to be between the two alone, Neville continued into the Great Hall, after assuring Harry that he would save him a seat, to which Harry was very grateful; if he could avoid another confrontation with Ron and Hermione being clueless as to the problem, he would. He wasn't ready to talk to them about it. Not yet.

"How are you, Cho?" he asked politely, leading her to the side of the hall so as not to impede the marching of students heading for the Great Hall.

"I'm all right, I guess, all things considered," Cho said, a brief flicker of sadness crossing her face, but she brightened up quickly. "And you, Harry?"

Harry could not pretend that he knew much about Cho outside of what everyone else knew, but she seemed to be nice enough, and Harry had realized over the summer that he had very few friends in other houses; much of his time in Hogwarts had been spent in the constant company of Ron and Hermione. He could see the immediate flaw in this now that he really thought about it. The Hat was right: it was about time Harry made some new connections, to try and build inter-house relations. He had made a good start with Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini from Slytherin, after all, and he was on good terms with some members of the Hufflepuff house.

Somehow, for reasons unknown to himself, he knew he could trust Cho at least marginally. They were connected in one way, after all: both had known Cedric Diggory and were still saddened at his death at the hands of Wormtail.

"I'm OK," he said quietly, looking around the hall. "Could be better, but I'm sure I'll be all right."

Cho nodded. She was staring at him in a way Harry had never seen her stare at him before, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"Harry, the reason I wanted to talk to you was because ... well, you see ... I ..." She broke off, unsure of how to word her question. The look in her eye told Harry everything: she was worried as to what his reaction would be when she voiced what she wanted to say. Harry decided that whatever it was, he could deal with it.

"Go ahead," Harry said in an assuring tone.

She smiled at him, though her smile was edged with sadness, as she finished, "Harry, I was wondering if we could talk some time ... about Cedric."

Harry stared at her blankly. This had not been what he was expecting.

"About Cedric?" he asked a little hoarsely.

"Yes," said Cho, who looked worried now, though sadly determined.

Harry thought about it, unsure of what to say. On the one hand, he didn't want to ever think about that fateful and terrible night in the graveyard of Little Hangleton ever again – reliving it by telling Professor Dumbledore at the end of the last term had been hard enough. On the other hand, he knew that Cho and Cedric had been romantically involved in the six months between the Yule Ball and Cedric's death, that he himself had harbored a crush on Cho even before then, and that he had been the one who had watched Cedric die, who had even told Cedric to take the cup, not knowing it was a Portkey until it was too late. Sighing inside, he knew that it was only fair to Cho that he allow her to talk about Cedric with him. This was about more than just his feelings, this was about hers as well.

"All right, Cho," he finally replied with a nod. "I can do that."

"Really?" Cho exclaimed, happiness sparkling in her eyes for the first time since before Cedric died, as far as Harry knew.

"Really," Harry said, knowing that this was something that had to be done. It would be worse if Cho simply brought it up at the worst of times, but if they could get it out into the open beforehand, it would be much easier on both of them, and save them both a lot of emotional strain. _Who knows, maybe we'll even become friends. I need some friends from Ravenclaw._

"Oh, Harry, thank you!" Cho cried, throwing her arms around Harry's neck and hugging him tightly. Not being someone who had much experience with physical contact, having been neglected by his aunt and uncle for two-thirds of his life so far, Harry's hug in return was quite awkward, though he knew it was because at the moment, he barely knew Cho. It would change soon, he promised himself.

"It's no trouble," Harry assured her, stepping away. He turned around as though to walk away, but looked back over his shoulder as he added, "I'll tell you when we can meet some other time. I'll see you later, Cho."

"See you, Harry."

She scurried off to the staircase, heading towards what Harry presumed to be the Ravenclaw common room, and he walked on into the Great Hall, where lunch had already began. He dropped down in his seat next to Ginny feeling oddly cheered up; it was as though a great weight was going to drop off his shoulders soon.

"What's got you so cheery?" Ginny asked, looking amazed at the smile on Harry's face. She knew that he rarely smiled anymore.

"Oh, it's nothing," he assured her, looking pointedly at Neville, who got the hint and did not add to the discussion. "How were your classes, Ginny?"

"They weren't bad," Ginny said wearily, "but some of the people in those classes are bloody annoying, especially that Harper, from Slytherin, going on like an idiot in Muggle Studies ..."

Harry listened to her talk, occasionally exchanging a glance with Neville, who looked bored with the talk and was wolfing down some mashed potatoes, apparently in a rush. This caught Harry's interest momentarily; Neville, the shy, quiet boy that he had known for four years, was never in a rush, at least not as far as Harry knew ...

"What's the hurry, Neville?" Harry asked, unknowingly interrupting Ginny in mid-sentence.

Neville froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Er, well, I'm meeting someone in the library," Neville said quickly, before shoving more food into his mouth in an obvious ploy to get himself out of the conversation. Harry did not miss this and, deciding that Neville would tell him eventually (whenever that was), let it drop.

Ginny, however, didn't share Harry's sentiments.

"Who are you meeting?" she asked, staring at Neville oddly.

"It's, um, nobody," he said quickly through a mouthful of ham.

"Drop it," Harry whispered to her, but she ignored him.

"Who are you meeting, Neville?" Ginny asked again, her curiosity blinding her to the fact that she was being rather nosy.

Neville did not reply. Instead, he fixed Ginny with a stare that almost made her lose her resolve. Since when did _Neville_, of all people, stand up for himself? And why was he so dead-set on not telling her? They were friends, after all.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, before throwing down his fork and hurrying off.

Harry watched him go, wondering what in the hell had happened just now. Ginny was frowning after him, seemingly aware of something that Harry wasn't, though he didn't think it was his business to pry. Thinking about this suddenly reminded him of something that had happened on the Hogwarts Express the previous day, and this time, he wanted to know.

"Er, Ginny," he began, and when Ginny looked at him, he asked, "why were you staring at that bloke from Ravenclaw angrily on the train yesterday? You looked really angry with him."

This seemed to catch Ginny by surprise, as well as make her forget about her curiosity about Neville.

"Oh, him?" When Harry nodded, she said, "It's nothing. His name is Michael, and he and I were seeing each other last term."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise: he had never known this.

"I didn't tell any of you because I didn't need Ron, Fred or George on my back about him," Ginny added quickly, as though she had read Harry's mind. "Especially Ron. He'd go all protective brother on him and beat him to a pulp just because he was dating me. It doesn't matter anyway, though, as we aren't together anymore."

"What happened there?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

"The jerk didn't write me at all," Ginny replied. "When I was at home during the summer, he didn't send me one letter, and he didn't reply to the one letter I sent him. So I sent one last letter telling him I was done with him, and he finally replied saying he didn't care."

"Not a very friendly bloke, is he?"

"No, he's a git. He didn't even know why I was staring at him angrily. He just gave me that stupid blank look when we were in that compartment, remember? I don't know what happened. I mean, we went to Hogsmeade together, shared a few kisses, and danced at the Yule Ball –"

"I can see why you didn't want Ron to know," Harry interjected, picturing Ron's face if he ever heard that someone had been snogging his younger sister. He quickly decided that if the rift between them ever mended, this was not something he would share with Ron.

"Yeah," she said with a slight laugh. "So what do you have next, after lunch?"

"Free period," he replied, "then Defense with that Anashi guy."

"Huh," Ginny said, casting a look at Professor Anashi, who was, like the previous night, sitting back in his chair, eyes closed and arms folded. His hair hung over his face a little, blocking it from sight. He appeared to be meditating.

"There's something off about that guy," Harry said quietly. "Something strange. Whenever he looks at me, it's like there's two people looking at me through one set of eyes."

"I know what you mean," Ginny whispered, staring at the meditating man at the other end of the hall with furrowed eyebrows. "Maybe he's two people?"

Harry laughed, knowing that Ginny was only kidding, but he did not object: he had learned not to be surprised at things that happened in the magical world.

"Well," said Harry, staring at Professor Anashi suspiciously, "I'll find out in a few hours, I guess. I have his Defense class later on this afternoon, after my free period. He wants to speak to me after class anyway, so I may or may not find out what he's up to. I've learned to not trust any Defense professor, Remus being the exception."

Ginny nodded, and after a few minutes had passed, they stood up to leave the Great Hall.

"There's something else about that Anashi bloke that strikes me as curious as well," Harry told Ginny as they left the hall; as they passed the Slytherin table, he signaled for Daphne and Zabini to come, though he made the signal as inconspicuous as possible, and they must have received it, for they stood up to leave just as Harry and Ginny reached the doors. "He seems to really, really bother Snape."

"Oh, Harry," said Ginny exasperatedly, rolling her eyes, "every Defense professor we've ever had has bothered Snape in some way or form, and that includes Remus."

"Not in that way," Harry argued, remembering how Snape had looked after Anashi had left. "He took thirty points from Gryffindor for my cheek when I didn't say a damn word. I think Anashi intimidates him."

"Maybe," said Ginny unconcernedly, "but if he does, that's probably a good thing, isn't it?"

"It could be," muttered Harry. "Then again, it could be a bad thing if he singles us out as well."

"We'll see," she replied, making it very obvious how little she cared.

As they walked out into the courtyard, into the square in front of the Entrance Hall, Harry noticed Daphne and Zabini following them. They turned a corner and waited next to a pillar, and sure enough, the two Slytherins turned the corner a few seconds later, and they were all together again.

"Hi," Harry said quietly, grinning at Daphne, who smiled back.

"Hi yourself," she said easily. "Are you enjoying my present?"

"Very much, thanks," said Harry, still grinning, as he held up the shrunken two-way mirror. "This is brilliant, it's like the wizard version of a telephone. Where did you get it?"

"It was originally what my sister and I used to talk to each other whenever we weren't together, back when we were closer," Daphne explained, pulling out her own mirror. "My parents gave them to us. We asked if there was a way to connect a set of two-way mirrors with another set, and they connected the two sets, and that's how we've each got one, so that we can all talk to each other at the same time."

"Incredible," Harry remarked.

"Indeed it is," said Zabini curiously. "When she first showed me this mirror, I have to admit that I was quite skeptical about it, but it is an incredible thing. There are no wizard telephones, so this is possibly the next best thing. Not to mention a Muggle telephone doesn't usually have a built-in camera, meaning that this beats a telephone in the long run."

"How do you know all that?" Harry asked in amazement; he had not yet met a pure-blood that knew much about Muggle technology.

"My step-sister, who is seven years older than I am, married a Muggleborn," Zabini said simply, as though the question, and by extension Harry's curiosity, did not matter to him. "He has a lot of Muggle trinkets himself, and I've seen and used much of them simply because I was curious as to how they worked. There is nothing in my mother's home that is made with Muggle technology, after all, since she is a pure-blood."

Harry nodded, not bothering to argue about pure-blood views, as he knew that even his friends, Ginny included, shared them.

"And how are you, Ginevra?" Zabini asked suddenly, taking Ginny's hand and brushing his lips against it.

Her face as red as her hair, Ginny smiled nervously and said, "I'm, um, good. How – er – are you, Blaise?"

_That's strange,_ Harry thought, his eyebrows furrowed a little. _She wasn't this nervous last time we were all together. What's changed? Blaise isn't acting differently ..._

"I am quite well, Ginevra," Zabini said, flashing her a smile that made her, if anything, more nervous than before. Harry raised his eyebrows but did not comment; he would ask her later. "So, Harry, how is your first day back so far?"

"What did Madam Umbridge have to say during Potions?" Daphne asked curiously. "I saw her talking to you during the class. She seemed ... too friendly to me."

"She was," admitted Harry, "but I think I can guess why. She wants to get a rise out of me without attracting unwanted attention, and without letting people know she hates me as much as Fudge does right now." He stood up. "Let's walk and talk."

"I'm guessing you don't want to give her that satisfaction?" Daphne said as they walked, trailing a little behind Ginny and Zabini, who were walking arm-in-arm as they had on the platform; both were a little embarrassed by their behaviour. "Umbridge, I mean."

"Not a chance," Harry said immediately, "the Ministry and the Prophet all think I'm crazy enough without mouthing off to the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. They'd have a field day. I daresay I get enough unwanted attention without that. Not to mention I wouldn't put it past Umbridge to try pulling a fast one ... I know enough about Fudge to know that he'd do anything to silence the idea that Voldemort's back, even if it means breaking his own laws."

"Very well-reasoned," said Daphne, nodding her head. "I've been thinking the same thing. Why would Umbridge single you out in Snape's class just to get some background history? But then I thought, maybe she doesn't care about that. Maybe she just wants to see you blow a fuse. The _Daily Prophet_ is going on about how bonkers you are."

She closed her eyes momentarily.

"My uncle works for the Prophet. He's one of the main believers in that paper that you're an attention-seeking nutter. He didn't need Fudge to push his influence to write all that; he was willing to do it himself. My parents are going along the same line of thinking – my mother, anyway; my father is neutral to the whole thing – but Astoria believes you. Even though you're in Gryffindor and she's in Slytherin, she's quite taken with you. Not as taken as she is with Draco Malfoy, but the notice is still there."

Harry didn't know what to say to this, so he did the one thing that made sense to him, and kept his mouth closed. In reality, he didn't really believe it was possible for someone to fancy both him and Malfoy at the same time. It didn't seem right to him; then again, nothing involving Malfoy ever seemed right.

"I just wish that Voldemort would hurry up and make an open move against the wizarding world," Harry said quietly, not looking at Daphne as he spoke; his eyes had darkened a few shades. "He's doing exactly what Dumbledore thought he would do: he's staying in the shadows, making moves in silence, until the right time, which could be years from now for all we know. He can't very well walk into the Ministry, anyway; he looks like a human with the face of a snake."

"He does?" Daphne blurted out, astounded. "I figured he'd look like he did before you beat him the first time!What ritual did he use?"

Harry looked puzzled; what did that matter?

"Some kind of potion that used his father's bone, a Death Eater's hand, and my blood," he replied, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the scars made by Wormtail into his forearm, where the blood had been taken from. "It brought him back to a body. The only things he has are flesh, blood, and a skeleton. He's using my blood."

Daphne looked sickened.

"That's an incredibly Dark ritual," she said, her face white.

"It's Voldemort we're talking about," said Harry slowly. "He's an incredibly Dark wizard."

They walked in silence for a few moments. Harry couldn't understand it; just this morning he had been ecstatic at the thought of being able to talk to his newfound friend, and now that he was walking side-by-side with her, he had no idea what to say to her. It was like being around Cho all over again. Surely he must say something, but what? He didn't have enough experience with girls to know how to act around them – he had considered Hermione a sister when they were still good friends, so she was the exception – and Vernon Dursley would sooner admit that his son was indeed a fat, spoiled bully than sit down and give Harry "the Talk."

As though she were reading his mind, Daphne piped up, "You still with me, Harry?"

He blushed a little.

"Just lost in thought, that's all."

She smiled, but did not comment. He was grateful for that.

Harry wasn't sure how it happened, but somewhere during their conversation they had ended up back in the Entrance Hall. He was suddenly concerned that someone – especially a Slytherin – would notice that he and Daphne, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin – were walking around and chatting like friends. He found that he didn't really care all that much.

Apparently, Daphne didn't, either.

"Want to go to the library for a bit?" she suggested. "Nobody will bother us there."

"Sounds good to me," Harry said with a nod. "What about you, Ginny, Blaise?"

"I have to get to my lesson in a few minutes," Ginny said with a sigh. "I don't have a free period until Wednesday. I've got Charms next."

"I shall walk with her to Charms," Zabini said quietly, looking at his red-headed friend with an unreadable look in his eyes: was it fascination? "Shall we go, Ginevra?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ginny again, as Daphne forced a giggle and Harry rolled his eyes a little.

"We shall indeed, Blaise," she said, giggling as she grabbed his arm again.

"We'll see you two later," Zabini called over his shoulder as he and Ginny walked away, heading for the fourth floor.

The moment they were out of sight, Daphne snorted and said, "They fancy each other."

"Hm?"

"Isn't it obvious to you?" she asked, looking at him with surprise.

"I grew up without any of this," Harry said, not wanting to talk about his life with the Dursleys, who had been less than kind to him.

"Oh." Her eyebrows rose a little. "Anyway, I can see it when they look at each other. He's obviously smitten with her – he's never been this outgoing with any girl he's been around, as far as I know – and I can tell that she's harboring feelings for him as well, but isn't really sure about them yet."

"How the hell can you tell all this?" Harry blurted out.

She smiled. "Woman's tuition."

Harry quickly decided he didn't want to know.

She laughed. "Come on," she said quietly, "let's go to the library, get to know each other a little better." She grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, and he quickly fell into step beside her, neither noticing the dark looks that passed over two fellow students as they watched them go from the side, out of sight.

* * *

_  
That was the strangest experience I've ever known,_ Harry thought to himself as he walked down the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, thinking back to the last few hours he had spent with Daphne in the library. He touched the cheek that Daphne had held a few times and kissed once. _Merlin, I wish I understood women better, 'cause I'm baffled. Neville seems all right with them, though; he was certainly enjoying himself with that blond girl he was with in the library._

Daphne walked a little ways behind him, smirking a little. He knew exactly what she was so cheerful about, and he felt a bit of resentment, but not towards her; he would give his fame and fortune to read a woman's mind for a day. He briefly considered talking to Sirius or Remus about his issues, but quickly decided that he'd rather keep all of this private for the time being.

He stopped outside of the Defense classroom, noticing that he was one of the first ones there. Only Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Theodore Nott were there so far. Nott smirked as he saw Harry coming, and stood up to face him.

"How's the scar, Potter?" he taunted, his hand casually in his pocket, though Harry knew he was holding his wand. "Feeling a little ... _nutty_?"

"You'd know, I s'pose," Harry said nonchantly, walking over to a spot isolated from the others and dropping into it. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at Nott. "Why do you lot get such kicks at poking fun at me, anyway? I'm really not all that interesting."

"No, you're not," Nott said with a sneer, "and that's why it's so easy. You won't even defend yourself, you coward!"

"Says the boy who hides behind Draco Malfoy as though Malfoy were a shield," Harry said in a dismissing tone, and Nott's sneer curled into an ugly look. "The only cowards here are you and Malfoy, Nott, and it baffles me to see that you'll never see that. Maybe if you spent less time making fun of me and more time actually improving, you would see it and get over it, but I'm sure Lord Voldemort will actually be dead before that happens."

From her place along the other end of the wall, Daphne snorted a little, though she covered it up with a tiny cough. Nott took no notice.

"You'll get yours one day, Potter," was all he said before turning around and walking towards the wall, leaning against it.

"I'm sure I will," Harry muttered under his breath.

In the next ten minutes, more students began filing into the corridor, and soon enough Neville came to join Harry, who had stood up.

"All right, mate?" Neville asked, as the door to the classroom opened and everyone began filing in.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, ending the conversation before it began. "Come on, let's get in there now or we'll get cruddy seats."

All of the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were soon in the classroom, and Harry and Neville took seats in the second row, though their professor was nowhere to be found. To his slight surprise, Parvati Patil dropped into a seat next to Harry; as far as he knew, Parvati wasn't fond of him because of the whole issue at the Yule Ball. The moment she smiled at him, however, Harry knew something must be up, though he said nothing for the moment.

"Hi, Harry," Parvati said brightly. "Hi, Neville. How were your summers?"

"Er, good," said Harry uncertainly, while Neville didn't reply.

Her smile faltered slightly, but it came back just as brightly within moments.

"I guess you're wondering why I'm suddenly talking to you again when I'm supposedly angry with you, aren't you?" she said bluntly, staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well ... yeah," Harry admitted.

"Well, I've thought about it over the summer, and I decided that you didn't mean to neglect me during the ball. I could tell that you were interested in someone else – that Chang girl, wasn't it? – and besides, it wouldn't be fair to Ronald, who was sitting and sulking beside my sister. She hasn't forgiven him, by the way, but she did give him attention because he was part of the second task."

Harry frowned at the mention of Ron.

"Yeah, well ... I'd rather not think about the tournament," Harry said shortly. "Sorry, just a lot of bad memories."

Parvati nodded in understanding, still wearing the same unreadable expression.

"For what it's worth, though," Harry added, "I'm really sorry about not paying you more attention at the ball."

She looked surprised.

"Oh, don't worry about it!" she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm over it now! I've been over it since the second task! Just remember that next time there's a ball at Hogwarts – and hopefully that's soon, because it was really fun! – you owe me a dance, whether you like it or not this time!"

Harry grinned.

"Sounds fair to me. I'll try to avoid stepping on your toes when that happens."

"You were fine during the ball, don't worry," Parvati assured him.

"Thanks, Parvati."

Any further conversation between the two was cut off as the door to the office above the classroom opened and Professor Anashi stepped out, tying back his back-length hair in a long ponytail. His two eyes seemed more mismatched than ever. He came to stand in front of the class, his gray eye looking over the room.

"I will start with attendance," Anashi barked, and one by one he called the names of everyone in the class. After determining everybody present, he banished the list with a wave of his wand and clapped his hands together, his gray eye narrowed. "Before we begin, let me make a few things perfectly clear. You will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir', no exceptions. I am not going to warn you every time you step out of line. If I have to warn you past one time, you're out of the class. I don't have time, patience or energy to deal with idiots. Understood?"

The class nodded in unison, dumbstruck by this.

"Very good," said Professor Anashi gruffly. "Now, let's get into the lesson quick-like, because we're wasting time otherwise. Let's begin with one basic fact. You will have to learn some of the Darkest magic ever known to be able to find acceptable defenses against them, because you will one day find yourself having to face it. I don't know what this class's collected opinion is on the matter, and I don't rightly care, because whether you want to accept it or not, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, has come back."

Most of the class gasped. Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering what the weird-eyed man was playing at. It almost sounded as though he were part of the Order; he acted and sounded a lot like Mad-Eye Moody. There was also the fact that he was able to say Voldemort's name without fear or regret, or even a twitch ...

"Oh, calm yourselves!" snapped Anashi, leaning on his cane. "You're going to have to get used to the fact that Lord Voldemort has returned, that he will collect Death Eaters and Dark creatures alike, and that one day you may end up on the receiving end of their favorites: the Cruciatus curse, the Imperius curse, and the Killing curse.

"These three curses, which Professor Moody told you last year are the Unforgivable Curses, are said to have no defense to them. That is a load of tripe!" he barked out suddenly, and half the class jumped in their seats, especially Ron. "There may not be a spell to defend against these curses, but just because one's fired at you doesn't mean you should stand perfectly still and wait for it to hurt, control, or kill you!

"What you're going to learn this year is advanced defensive spells, spells that go beyond simple Shield Charms and Disarming Charms. You will learn how to create shields from thin air – this will be especially useful when you learn advanced Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall – and you will learn how to conjure solid shields, which can take the force of any spell without harming the castor! Any questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one!" shouted a voice from the back of the room. "Why are you teaching us Muggle defenses? This is a magical school!"

Anashi's eyes, both of them, narrowed with dislike.

"And who are you, laddie?" he barked.

"Theodore Nott!" yelled out Nott, as though affronted that Professor Anashi did not know this.

"Well, Mr. Nott, I'm not sure if I got my message into your narrow pure-blood mind, but when we have reached Christmas you will discover exactly why "Muggle defenses" are helpful in a duel! You would be shocked to find out that even Lord Voldemort uses them, when faced with the Unforgivables himself!"

"Oh, please!" Nott scoffed. "The Dark Lord would never resort to such crude and pathetic ways of –"

Exactly what Voldemort would not do was not discovered, as Nott suddenly found that he could not speak. He opened and closed his mouth, but no sounds came out. Nott quickly raised his wand to fix the problem when it was yanked from his hand by an invisible force and sent flying across the room, and into the outstretched hand of a livid Aiyasis Anashi.

"Detention, boy! Seven o'clock tomorrow evening with Mr. Filch!" He put the wand on a desk, waved his wand, and a long string tied it in place to invisible indents in the wooden desk. "You won't be getting this back until the end of the lesson, Mr. Nott, so consider yourself finished for the day. Get into my office; you will be taking notes in there while I continue with the lesson."

Nott didn't move.

"_Now_, Mr. Nott!" snapped Anashi.

With a look of purest loathing, Nott picked up his things and walked to the front of the room, up the steps that led to the landing above the classroom, and through the office door, slamming it behind him.

"Spoiled brat," muttered Professor Anashi, before turning back to the class and continuing as though he had not been interrupted at all. "Now then, we will begin by discussing what I will be teaching you. As you undoubtedly know by now, the Ministry refuses to accept the idea that Lord Voldemort is back." A large amount of flinching passed through his words, but Anashi ignored them. "Our esteemed Minister is instead imposing Educational Decrees on us, in the hopes that everything you learn is decided by the Ministry, and them alone."

He reached into the inside of his robes and pulled out a list.

"On here is everything that the Ministry has decided they want me to teach you," he said slowly. "A list of spells for beginners to magic." Wordlessly, he set the list on fire, letting it turn to ashes before him. "That is bollocks. You will not be learning the basics. I've had word from Professor Remus Lupin saying that he taught you everything a third or fourth year should learn about Dark creatures, while I've heard that your last professor, a madman disguised as one Mad-Eye Moody, taught you a lot of Dark curses and the defenses to them.

"What you're going to be learning is a lot like last year, as this is war."

There was no reply, though the students collectively shrunk back.

"You need to learn things that are truly despicable if you want to survive this war," Anashi said tonelessly, his gray eye seeming to twinkle. His brown eye was, as ever, blank and seemingly unseeing. "You need to learn to protect yourself from the worst curses imaginable. There are Dark rituals and Dark magic the likes of which you've never heard of – and I would be a fool to attempt to show you under a normal circumstance – but this is war, and Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters will not show mercy to anyone who opposes them, whether pure-blood or otherwise. I fought alongside some of the bravest wizards in history in wars before this one. I would know."

"What do you mean, sir?" Hermione asked.

Professor Anashi smiled, though it looked a lot like a grimace.

"In the war of the forties, when Lord Grindelwald was still gaining power outside of magical Britain, task forces were gathered together to stand against his Dark forces, which were known as the Dark Seekers. No, I do not mean the term Seeker that one applies to the wizard sport, Quidditch," he added gruffly, and a couple of students chuckled weakly. "When Grindelwald was ascending to power, terrible things took place. You see, Lord Grindelwald was not like Lord Voldemort in any way, though it is speculated that Grindelwald took Voldemort under his wing, seeing an unnaturally talented Hogwarts graduate who had already dabbed a bit into Dark magic of his own. Oh, yes," Anashi said fiercely, "Lord Voldemort was a troublemaker even in school, though he was so secretive and quiet about it that nobody thought he was behind anything that happened. The Chamber of Secrets incident, which was blamed on one Rubeus Hagrid, was opened by a Parselmouth, and there are only two known Parselmouths in the world right now, with one of them sitting in this room. The other, as everyone knows, is Lord Voldemort.

"Grindelwald did not operate as Voldemort did. He did not act in secret, attacking from the shadows and killing people individually. What I'm talking about is a full-scale war. Thousands of wizards and witches fought in battlefields, from open fields to streets in wizarding communities themselves. Many people died in these wars. Many more were injured, whether permanently or otherwise.

"I fought alongside the forces that struggled against the Dark Seekers, and I was there to bear witness to the final battle between Lord Grindelwald and our own headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. That was a battle between two of the fiercest and seemingly most powerful wizards in history, greater, perhaps, than the founders of Hogwarts themselves. The battle went on for days, until Grindelwald was finally defeated. Dumbledore did not, however, kill Grindelwald. The Dark Lord of the last generation was locked away in Azkaban prison, and remains there to this day. It is unknown if and when he will finally die."

Professor Anashi broke off from his tale, looking a little weary, and then clapped his hands together.

"But that is all beside the point, as you all know. What I'm here to do is teach you everything you need to know about defensive magic, and how to conjure defenses. That will lead up to the end of this term, and after that we will be working on other things, though I will not be confiding them to you until January.

"Any questions?" Anashi barked.

The class all shook their heads.

"No? All right, then ... on with the lesson!"

It soon became apparent that Professor Anashi was a lot like the imposter Professor Moody had been – which, in the class's opinion, was a good thing. He showed them all kinds of curses and jinxes that they had never heard of before, as well as the counter-curses and counter-jinxes to some of them, claiming that others had no magical defense. He then did what the fake Moody did the previous year and performed the Cruciatus Curse in front of them, only this time it was performed on a snake instead of a spider. About three-quarters of the way into the lesson he had them copy down the names of the spells and their definitions, getting them to detail exactly how each spell could be used, and then list the definitions to them. Finally, when the bell was about to ring and Anashi was just showing them how a Stunning Spell could be used in more ways than simply Stunning an opponent, he banished all of the test subjects.

"Your homework: an essay fifteen inches in length on all of the ways, both good and bad, a Disabling Jinx can be used, to be handed in next Monday," Professor Anashi barked out to the class as they were getting up to leave. "Your next class will be purely practical; you will not need your books."

He watched them leave one by one, and then added:

"Potter, a word before you go, please!"

Remembering that Anashi had asked to see him while in Potions earlier that day, Harry nodded, taking extra time to pack away his things as his classmates left. Once he was ready, and after assuring Parvati and Neville that he would talk to them later, he walked to the front of the room to see Professor Anashi, who beckoned him into his office.

The office looked much like it had when Barty Crouch Jr, disguised as Moody, had inhabited it. There was a large Foe-glass, though it was not cracked, hanging in the same place the last one had, and three Sneakoscopes were set up around the office in a large triangle around the room. There were several portraits added as well, some of wizards Harry recognized, others he didn't. One such portrait hung, the largest of them all, behind Professor Anashi's desk.

Professor Anashi gestured for Harry to take a seat, doing likewise at his desk. Nott had apparently been sent off as well.

"So, Harry Potter ..." Anashi began, looking over a long parchment. "I've had a letter from Remus Lupin telling me how well you've done in previous classes with Defense Against the Dark Arts, even with not-so-good professors. You've had Gilderoy Lockhary, Quirinus Quirrell, Remus, and someone who Polyjuiced Mad-Eye Moody, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, unsure of where Professor Anashi was going with this.

"I'm not even going to comment on Lockhart's classes, as they were a pathetic waste of information sent to me," Anashi said bluntly, and Harry grinned despite himself. "Quirrell was all right in the sense that he taught you lot things, though with the bloody mess he was, and his alliance with Voldemort, he was probably less than favorable. Lupin was probably the best professor you'd had to that point, and the fake Moody was definitely good with what he knew, though he spent far too much time teaching you lot the same things over and over again.

"I'm guessing you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this, right, Potter?"

"Yes, Professor."

Professor Anashi smiled, the first true smile Harry had seen him put up, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You see, I've heard all about your little escapades over your last four years of Hogwarts," Professor Anashi said, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Anashi laughed. "Don't be so surprised! Professor Dumbledore trusts me with information he would not entrust with the rest of the staff, even his most beloved, though in this case, it's practically common knowledge with every professor here: you've taken down a troll, fought off a possessed wizard bent on taking the Philosopher's Stone and killing you, slain a full-grown Basilisk as a boy, destroyed a possessed diary that would probably have sapped the life out of young Miss Weasley forever if you had failed to, discovered the innocence of your godfather, conjured a corporeal Patronus that effectively fought off over a hundred Dementors at once, took part in the Triwizard Tournament at the age of fourteen and clearing each task marvelously if not a little luckily, and fought off Lord Voldemort at the strongest he'd ever been. From what Albus has told me, you even called Fawkes the phoenix to you in a time of great peril."

Harry nodded, his face going red. He knew that he had done all of this, but it felt so strange to hear it from the mouth of another. He didn't like being praised.

"Don't be modest, either," continued Professor Anashi, as though he had read Harry's last thought. "You deserve the praise you get. You've defended Hogwarts more than any professor, with the exception of Dumbledore himself, ever has."

Harry, who was quite unsure of what to say, kept his mouth closed. He honestly had no idea how to reply to the man before him who, only hours before, he had believed to be suspicious and slightly unnerving.

"Er, thanks," he finally said.

"Not at all, Potter, not at all!" Professor Anashi said cheerfully, his gray eye fixed on Harry's green ones, though the latter pair did not look back. "But with that said, we come to the real reason I've called you here. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up, meeting Professor Anashi's mismatched eyes for the first time since walking into the office.

"A proposition, sir?"

"Yes, my boy, a proposition," said Professor Anashi simply, "and you can say no to it if you want, it's purely your choice. I wonder if you would want to take private lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts under my wing, outside of regular lessons."

Harry looked perplexed; the idea had not fully hit him.

"P-Private lessons, sir?"

"Good lord, boy, you can speak more than three words per sentence, can't you?" barked Professor Anashi, snorting a bit. "I'm offering to teach you that which I learned in the war against the Dark Seekers, Potter. Tell me, are you interested?"

"Well, yeah!" Harry spluttered, the full force of the offer hitting him now, "but where would I get the time? There's lessons, and it's OWL year ... there's Quidditch ..."

"I'm aware of all that, Potter," said Professor Anashi, rolling his eyes. "I've arranged it all with Professor Dumbledore. He's willing to let you drop one class in exchange for private lessons with me. Is there a class that you want to drop?"

"History of Magic," said Harry, not even giving it a thought; there was nothing, _nothing_, that could make him want to drop anything else over that dismal subject.

"Good, good," said Anashi, smiling at his new apprentice. "Now, off with you. I've got lessons for tomorrow to plan out." He led Harry to the door, showing him out. "Good night, Potter."

"Good night, Professor."


End file.
